Sepia Photographs, Lavender Reverie
by orpheus01
Summary: In the distant future, Meryl Stryfe lives on only in the pages of a photo album, the wistful heart of Vash the Stampede and a young child... [ Post Series. VxM. ]
1. Secrets and Smiles

Author's Babblings: Okay! Scene. Vash and Meryl are already a thing-- it was bound to happen.

Phwee, this is my first time _actually_ posting and I is nervous about it. o-o Make me feel better? R'n'R?

Disclaimer: Trigun and all its subdivisions of disclaimables are not mineand I make no profit from writing this sad little fic, save helpful criticism. cough Helpful criticism. furrows brow at reader

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**_Chapter One: Secrets and Smiles_**

_Cold, gaunt hands brushed yellowing pages, flicking them one after the other. Pale faces, smiling and crying and displaying many other emotions, peered up off them into the tired eyes that were following their every line, every shadow and every detail…_

A small woman fidgeted, breathing fast, struggling to contain her excitement. "Oh my god," she kept whispering feverishly to her herself, repeating it over and over. "Oh my god…" She slowly resolved to try and calm herself down.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay…Relax, Meryl," she spoke softly. "Just relax."

She collected herself a little, seating herself down at the foot of her bed. She took time, breathing slowly and deeply, smoothing her hair and clothes over in the attempt.

"Phoooo," she exhaled, and then allowed herself a small smile, which consequently became a wide grin. She hugged herself, savoring the happiness that consumed her in the moment of discovery: the discovery of the miracle brewing inside of her.

She stood up, her eyes brimming with joy. She looked at herself in the mirror and was never so proud to be Meryl Stryfe. Her reflection gave her a congratulatory beam and folded her arms across her stomach. The short, young woman stepped forward, her lavender eyes glittering. She could hardly contain herself, she was so happy.

"Milly!" she called, her voice slightly shaky. She paused, recalling that her friend and workmate was not in the house. Meryl cast around as to what to do with herself. She snatched up her usual white blouse, decided on spewing the news out to Milly as soon as possible. She pulled on her white boots and cleared away a box and the used contents beside it. She gave the mirror one last look, smiling with utter joy, before racing out into the street, not bothering to lock the front door of the house behind her.

"Milly!" she yelled out, her black-cerulean hair whipping in the wind rushing past her, not caring about the odd looks she was receiving from the passing townsfolk.

"MILLY!" she squealed again, drawing closer to her friend's part-time workplace. "Mil—" Meryl was cut mid-shout when abruptly the ground began to rumble. She stood for a moment, teetering on the spot worriedly when at once a great fountain of water disgorged from the well ahead.

"Meryl!" the high gleeful voice of Milly Thompson sounded out. "Meryl, we hit water!" Meryl beamed as her friend rushed over and a discontented cat rushed away, the water raining down on the small square. "Isn't that great?" Milly cried, her arms outstretched, welcoming the water that was drenching her clothes.

"Yeah!" Meryl agreed, chuckling and turning her face to the sky, letting the droplets cool her face. Milly did a small jig, smiling and looking unmatched for her own amount of glee. Meryl looked with content eyes to the outlying desert into the fluid haze.

"Vash will come back, right?" Milly suddenly asked, out of the blue. Meryl grinned wickedly, the notion of informing Milly about her recent discovery trailing into the back of her mind.

"Of course he will," she replied smugly. "He wouldn't dare keep a good woman like me waiting!" They stood for a long time, enjoying the discharge as it continued for another hour or two. Meryl soon found herself a seat atop a roof, graciously sharing with Milly and a few others who sat out the afternoon to enjoy the display. And, as fate would have it, as Meryl Stryfe sat welling in pleasure, she spied a familiar figure on the horizon. Meryl nudged Milly sharply in the side.

"Ow. What is it, Meryl?" Milly responded, slightly bothered.

"Milly, look! There. Down there!" Meryl shifted eagerly, sending out her index in the direction of a slowly approaching man with something hanging over his shoulder.

"Could it be!" Milly said excitedly. "Could it be mister Vash?" But Meryl was ahead started, already off the roof and hurrying towards the silhouette.

"Meryl?" Milly blinked then spotted her friend. "Oh, Meryl! Wait for me!"

Meryl hardly heard Milly's call as she set out in pursuit. She sprinted towards Vash, his angular features coming into focus with his trademark goofy grin. Meryl was beginning to wonder whether this was the best day of her life when the sight that met her eyes, slung over Vash's shoulder, took her aback. She faltered for a moment, letting out a tiny gasp, but continued at a fast walk towards Vash.

"Hi." Vash greeted Meryl with a wave and a warm smile.

"Welcome back," Meryl stuttered, frightfully happy upon Vash's return but frightened of the form across his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, beaming.

"Mister Vash!" Milly squealed, jumping up to him, panting. "Welcome home!" she bellowed enthusiastically. Vash laughed.

"It's good to finally have a home to come back to."

Milly blinked at the load occupying Vash.

"Is this…mister Knives?" she asked, having been informed about Vash's homicidal sibling through Meryl.

"Yes. This is my brother," Vash stated. "I need to," he trailed off hesitantly. "…look after him awhile—"

"Say no more," Milly cut in over him. "We'll help you however we can, right, Meryl?" Milly put an encouraging hand on Meryl's shoulder.

"Uh… Yes of course," Meryl granted, somewhat reluctantly, trying not to sound apprehensive.

Milly and Vash chatted animatedly together as the three of them walked briskly home. Milly seemed almost happier than Meryl that Vash was finally home again. Little though their house was, it was still comforting and indeed it well deserved the title of their _home_. Vash quickly disappeared into the small cellar below the house and proceeded to dress his brother's wounds and make a stay for him. Milly stroked a passing cat on the windowsill in the kitchen as she began preparing to make dinner. She giggled to herself, flicking the switch of the stove.

"He's just as wonderful as ever, isn't he, Meryl?" Milly turned to her friend, clapping her hands together.

"Yes… Yes he is," Meryl replied absently. "I mean no! No! No way! Of course not. Vash is just Vash, Milly. He's just silly!" She gave a hollow laugh.

_'Gawd, why am I still acting like this?'_ She groused in her mind. '_I got over the whole denial thing ages ago, didn't I?'_

Meryl sighed.

"Uh, Meryl…?" Milly ventured, a look of mild uncertainty on her face.

Meryl jumped. "Ahh… Yes, Milly?"

"Are you…okay?"

"Oh! Yes, I'm fine Milly. I'm just a little out of it, that's all." Meryl stated, giving her hand a dismissive wave. "Yes. He is wonderful, Milly." Meryl felt her mouth broaden into a small smile and her cheeks warming at the thought of Vash but only to have it chased away by the boding shadow of Knives.

"Meryl, is something wrong?" Milly asked, concernedly. "You seem a little distant."

"I…" Meryl wavered. "I'm… I'm worried about him."

"Mister Vash?"

Meryl nodded.

"Why?" Milly asked perplexedly.

"Just…Oh, it's nothing. It's just me," Meryl chirped, giving Milly a reassuring, peppy smile.

Milly returned the gesture and nodded. "Would you like to help with dinner, then, Meryl?"

"Of course," Meryl volunteered.

They hummed and talked together, Meryl feeling a might better than before, cooking and preparing, enjoying it as they did. The neighboring cat meowed helpfully and within half an hour a beautiful smelling, and even better looking meal of casserole was placed neatly on the kitchen table. Milly dished out a healthy portion of it for her plate and then followed with Vash's, giving him an even greater portion. Meryl ensued with: "Don't you think that's a bit much, Milly?"

"Now, Meryl, you know how mister Vash eats," Milly chortled.

"Yes. I guess you're right. He does like food, doesn't he?" Meryl laughed. "I'll go fetch him then."

"Okay." Milly replied. "I'll wait for you both."

Meryl tiptoed down the cellar stairs and found Vash cleansing his hands in the sink. She turned her gaze to Knives, who was placed gingerly on a stretcher, his wounds strangely delicately and intricately dressed. She recoiled slightly at the sight of him and his maniacal ideals. Knives had issues with the human race. Meryl wanted not to get involved with him. She looked back at Vash.

"Dinner is ready," she announced quietly.

"Smells good." Vash clapped his hands eagerly together.

"Mm." Meryl nodded. She had the urge to fling her arms around him but thought more over it in the presence of Knives, even if he was unconscious and incapacitated.

"Vash?"

"Yeah?" he answered, stepping towards her.

"Uhm, I have…" Meryl paused, feeling Vash's strong arms curl around her.

"Mm?"

"I have—" Meryl was suddenly interrupted by Milly.

"Come on, you two, or dinner will get cold!"

"Coming!" Vash called up to her. He looked warmly down at Meryl. "Spill after dinner."

"Right." Meryl nodded in agreement. Vash took her hand in his and led her up the stairs.

"Oh my. I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something?" Milly inquired apologetically.

"Oh, no. Nothing, Milly," Meryl said, giving her another reassuring smile.

"Let's eat!" Vash proposed.

"Lets!" Milly agreed and they both began a mock eating competition, each one wolfing and scoffing down food happily as Meryl surveyed hopelessly. In no time at all, the casserole dish was emptied and being licked clean by an appreciative cat. Vash sat with one arm draped over his stomach, looking a little (perhaps a lot) less lanky than usual, and Milly was in a similar position, her mouth twisted into a funny grin and looking satisfied. Meryl cleared away the plates, shaking her head.

"I swear it," she declared. "You two could eat the fourth moon, were it made of cheese!"

Vash and Milly looked at one another, exchanging glints.

"And…" they posed.

"And?" Meryl looked at them quizzically.

"And is it made of cheese?" they asked in unison, hopeful looks on their faces.

Meryl snorted. "No, of course it is not made of che— … Yes."

"OH MY GOD! WE NEED A SPACESHIP RIGHT NOW!" Vash and Milly swiftly jumped to their feet and immediately started buzzing around the room, stockpiling random items in order to build their own makeshift space capsule. Meryl was doubled over with laughter, holding her sides and staggering over to the couch. Never had she seen something so comical: two grown adults under the delusion that the moon was made of cheese.

"It's—heehee—it's not made of—ahahahah—chehehese!" she managed.

At once Vash and Milly let out great whines accompanying a long: "Awwwwww…"

They both looked crestfallen, and Meryl could not have laughed harder.

"Thanks a lot, insurance girl," Vash sniffed, folding his arms in a juvenile fashion. Milly proceeded to sniffle and wipe at her eyes. Meryl only continued her guffaw. Milly and Vash looked woefully at one another and both burst into tears. Meryl let away her last few giggles.

"Come on. You didn't seriously believe me, did you?" she cooed, feeling slightly awkward.

"Meryl! You can't joke about food!" Milly wailed and threw her arms around Vash, crying into his chest. Meryl paused, slightly flustered.

"Uh…" She cast around hopelessly. "Hey! Is that desert I smell?" she asked loudly, plastering a grin on her face.

"DONUTS!" Vash chimed, leaving a cloud image of himself in Milly's arms as he shot into the kitchen and returned almost instantaneously with a heavenly box of cinnamon and sugared donuts, three of them already crammed tightly into his mouth.

"Yum!" Milly whipped up and seized a donut off of Vash, savoring it, taking careful little nibbles and bites. Meryl laughed hopelessly, all guilt wiped away at the stupid smiles on Vash and Milly's faces. Meryl looked at Vash, a great sense of warmth swallowing her cheeks. She couldn't force away a smile at that goofy, donut crowded grin of his. Even if it was just a cover, but perhaps it wasn't and that Vash was wearing as warm and true a grin he could collect for Meryl, she didn't know, but all at once she lost herself in Vash's features.

"Don't eat them all!" Meryl heard Milly snap.

"Gesch uur uumn!" Vash replied, his mouth incapacitated with pastry and sugar as he shouldered Milly onto the sofa next to Meryl.

"Ahh! Mean Mister Vash!" she whimpered, lunging at him. Vash dodged and Milly haphazardly hit the floor. She lay on the floor, pretending to be hurt, sniveling, luring Vash. Vash paused and bent down slowly, reaching out to give Milly a small pat, when she cackled and precariously tackled Vash over, his shoulder colliding and smashing into the wall.

"ACH!" Vash yipped, the box of remaining donuts flying out of his hand and landing fortuitously on the couch beside Meryl who was jerked roughly out of her trance at the spectacle in front of her.

"Ohmygosh! I'm so sorry, Mister Vash!" Milly gasped, springing back away from him. Meryl leapt up, shocked, her eyes fixed on a spot on Vash's arm. She pointed to it, clapping a hand to her mouth.

"Vash! You're bleeding!" she squeaked. Milly's eyes went wide.

"Oh my god," she breathed.

"Ah!" Vash blinked at his arm. "Oh!" He looked from his arm to Meryl then to Milly, her eyes glazing. They were all silent for a moment, struck dumb at what had just happened, and then Milly's eyes began to water.

"Oh no! Milly! No! That wasn't your fault, Milly! I completely forgot about it! I'm not hurt! It's okay!" But by now, Milly's face was knotted in fear and guilt, tears streaming silently down her face.

Meryl grasped Milly's shoulder and shook her gently. "Milly, it's okay. He said it was okay." Vash nodded quickly.

"It's an old wound, I just completely forgot about taking care of it when I got back!" he explained helplessly.

"You…" Milly hiccupped. "You're sure?" she sniffed. Vash nodded vigorously. Milly moaned. "I'm so sorry, Mister Vash!"

"Milly!" Meryl said forcefully. Milly paused, mid-weep.

"Take Vash up stairs and see to his wound," she said firmly. "Okay?"

Milly nodded weakly, picking herself up as Vash got to his feet tenderly. He and Milly clambered up the stairs, Milly sobbing more apologies to Vash. Meryl sighed silently to herself, wondering what the hell had just happened. She looked back at an innocent, near empty box of donuts. She gathered herself up off the floor and commenced cleaning up the room after the ruckus _those two children_ had made. They were far too hyper.

Meryl was in the course of washing the dishes, when Milly reappeared at the foot of the stairs, her nose pink and her cheeks shining.

"Milly?" Meryl said softly.

"Mister Vash is taking a shower." Milly looked to her feet.

"I see," Meryl replied. "Listen… Milly, don't worr—"

"It's okay." Milly suddenly looked up, a smile gracing her face. "I know it wasn't my fault," she told Meryl, a little colour returning to her cheeks. "But…" She paused.

"Yes?"

"As it turns out, mister Vash had more than one untreated wound."

"Oh…" Meryl felt her chest begin to tighten.

"But it looks like he'll be just fine," Milly said confidently.

"That's good." The strain in Meryl's chest loosened.

Milly nodded, smiling, taking a tea towel off the counter and began drying the moist dishes. Meryl continued, feeling somewhat anxious, swirling the wash brush around the interior of the casserole dish. Milly stacked the day's worth of plates with a chink and stored them away, the cutlery following.

"It's great, isn't it, Meryl?" Milly fronted to Meryl.

"Pardon?"

"The town finally has a big water source."

"Oh." Something nagged at the back of Meryl's mind to be remembered. "Yes. It is good. It is quite a large water vein running below us, and a reliable one, at that. I'm surprised it wasn't discovered it a long time ago," she spoke absently, her gaze taking her attention into the street beyond the window.

"Yeah," Milly agreed, flicking a butcher's knife dry. "By the way, Meryl, it was nice of you to come and greet me today," she said sweetly. Meryl felt as though an anvil had collided with her stomach. She hadn't told Milly.

"Were you about to do some shopping?" Milly suggested, the metal cutlery clinking as she filed it into the draw below the counter.

"N-no…" Meryl fidgeted with the remaining dishes, feeling her face heating.

"Oh, were you coming to spend lunch with me? That was nice of you."

"Well…"

"Well?" Milly paused.

"Well, I guess that was a part of it," Meryl continued, self-consciously sweeping her raven hair behind her ear. "But I had something important to tell you."

"Oh, I see. Ooh, we got distracted, didn't we?"

"Yes. We did. It was something important… very important."

"Would you like to tell me now?" Milly coaxed, all a quiver of curiosity. Meryl turned a deep shade of scarlet, her eyes scintillating.

"I… I suppose so," she squeaked gently. "Well, Milly…" And she told Milly her secret.

_…He sat in his own presence in a small living room, flicking through the pages of a decrepit photo album with only the first moon's snowy effervescence to illuminate the stills before him. He laid weary eyes on the growth of a young girl before turning back several pages, as he had done countless times that night, and fixed his gaze to a woman. Of the many oh-so-treasured pictures he had of this woman, he liked this one the most. She was not smiling. In fact, it was hard to tell if any emotion was coursing through her at all. No, there was something in those eyes: It was as though she was determined. Determined to live for something… Or someone? And at the same time determined for them to live as well. _

_No, she was not smiling. Smiles were concealing. But if she had smiled, the man sitting before her image would have little reason left to live on without her._

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Whatcha think! Review? 3 

Please? ;;


	2. Expecting

Author's Ramblings: Oh my. What a fast update. And the plot is moving rather fast. :0 Actually this stuffs about Meryl and Vash isn't the actual plot but rather a fl—We'll see.

;Standard Disclaimer applies.

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_**Chapter two: Expecting**_

Milly stared, utterly dumbfounded. "Oh my goodness…" Meryl flushed and her cheeks began to glow.

"But," Milly protested. "You… you're sure?" She was fumbling for words.

Meryl nodded, sinking into her shoulders, blushing. Milly simply stared.

"I'm really happy, Milly."

"Well…" Milly started, still completely lost for words. "Then I'm happy for you too, Meryl!" Milly's mouth broadened and she gave her friend a bear hug. "That's completely wonderful, Meryl!"

"Yes. It is." Meryl patted Milly's shoulder, hunched up in her arms, letting a great big smile spread across her face.

"So. It is…?" Milly posed, hesitant of furthering her sentence.

"Yes. His." Meryl went magenta. Milly giggled.

"Well I sure am happy for you, Meryl. Overjoyed! Are you going to tell mister Vash tonight? Soon? Or have you already told him?" Meryl's heart quickened.

"N-no. I haven't told him. I don't know what his reaction would be." She tugged anxiously at the hem of her skirt.

"I'm sure mister Vash would be just as happy, if not more!" Milly chipped reassuringly.

"Happy about what?" Vash's voice inquired from the foot of the stairs. Meryl shrieked in horror, spontaneously lobbing a sudsy frying pan at him.

"ACH!" Vash yelled and toppled over backwards, a spurt of blood cascading out of his nostrils.

"Oh my gosh! Sorry Vash!" Meryl hastily made to his side, pulled out a handkerchief and began swabbing away the blend of soap and blood.

"N-no biggie," he managed, socked dumb from Meryl's greeting. Milly chuckled.

"Er… Umm…" Meryl shivered in her jacket. "H-how much did you… h-hear?"

"Nothing critical, I swear!" Vash waved his hands vigorously in protest to being dealt another _lemon fresh_ beating. Meryl heaved a sigh of relief.

"Good," she said forcefully, ignoring Milly's giggles. She flopped down beside Vash, hugging herself and sighing.

"Something I wasn't meant to hear?" Vash sat up, facing Meryl. Meryl curled up.

"Well… Not that you weren't meant to hear," she mumbled. Milly paused for a moment then quickly sidled out of the room, not wanting to pry on blossoming romance.

"Meryl?" Vash shuffled forward. Meryl looked up, her eyes alight, and absentmindedly began tracing Vash's features. Damp, tousled strands of blonde fell over his forehead. Meryl followed them down to his eyes and there she lost herself. Conscious thought slipped out of her brain and she could no longer move. She simply sat, mesmerized, spent within those eyes of Vash's: those piercing, but soft and cool and amazing and brilliant and bright and… andwonderful green-aqua eyes.

"Meryl?" Vash repeated.

"Aha!" Meryl snapped out of her spell, shaking thought back into her head. "Y-yes?"

"You were saying?"

"I was?" she relayed, still slightly stunned. "Ah. Oh yes. I was, wasn't I?" She laughed slightly. Vash cocked an eyebrow and Meryl flushed.

"What's up?" Vash insisted.

"Ah, well…" Meryl's voice caught in her throat, terrified of a negative reaction on Vash's part if she were to tell him her secret.

"Is it something important?"

Meryl nodded, staring down at her knees.

"Very important," she replied.

"Do you want to tell me?"

She nodded again.

"Yes, I do, but I'm not sure."

"I don't understand." Vash gave her a puzzled expression.

"I just…" Meryl choked, folding her arms firmly over her middle. She felt her face tempering again. Vash gazed at her inquiringly.

"I do have something really important to tell you." Meryl stood up, leaving Vash looking up at her still quietly and confusedly. "But I don't think I'm bold enough to tell you _right now_." And without further ado, she stole herself and ran up the staircase into her room, shutting the door quickly behind herself.

For the second time that day Meryl was breathing heavily, pooling that secret in her room. She sighed, glancing out of the window at the night sky, the stars within it twinkling. Meryl felt she needed something soothing, so she let herself into the bathroom. She took a warm bath, washing her hair and cleansing her body of the day's air. She lay in the soapsuds for a long time, brooding to herself as the water became tepid. What had he called her? Insurance girl? Hadn't Vash taken to just calling her Meryl now that there were no reservations between their relationship? She towel dried her hair, brushed it vacantly and slipped into a tartan nightgown.

Stepping into her fluffy slippers, she shut the bathroom door behind her and flicked the light off, sighing. Moonlight dammed at the walls outside but leaked in through the open, she noticed, french windows. She made to close them then suddenly registered the ominous figure perched on the balcony railing.

"Vash?" Meryl ventured a little closer. "Ah, you pervert," she said, but she didn't really mean it. She looked at him sitting there beautifully and, yes, even a little sexily, on the black rails. He wore nice light blue pajamas and white slippers. The moonlight painted over him and exaggerated his features, shadows clinging to every depression on his form. Vash looked at Meryl and smiled smugly.

"I'm not letting you get away," he said.

"Get out of my room," Meryl replied curtly.

"If I let you go tonight, you'll just find more and more ways to avoid me." The smirk was gone.

Meryl paused, taken aback. "I-it's not like that," she whimpered weakly, looking away.

"Meryl," Vash spoke firmly. "I don't recall this room solely belonging to you. I seem to remember it was 'ours.'"

Meryl was silent. "…It is," she finally let out. Vash erased the distance between them, and tucked his hand under Meryl's chin, making her face him.

"I'll never figure it out," he told her. "You're always telling me how dense I am, so you'll just have to tell me straight out and, I know, if you don't tell me now, you'll get less and less likely to as we go on."

"I said it wasn't like that," Meryl choked, swallowing back tears.

"It probably isn't, but that doesn't make it right for you to hide from me."

Meryl let her head fall onto Vash's chest, resigning.

"I was so happy," she whispered calmly, but shaking a little.

"And I ruined it by coming back?"

Meryl's eyes widened. "No! No, of course not! No way! I'm overjoyed to have you back. But I'm just… frightened of what you might think if I tell you."

"Meryl," Vash spoke delicately, setting Meryl's senses afire. "I told you _then_…"

She shifted away from the bed slightly.

"…That I would protect you." Vash slowly put his arms around Meryl's shaking form, leaning down and resting his chin lightly on her shoulder. "You don't have to be bold."

Meryl let out a muffled whimper, Vash's voice weakening her to the point of breaking down and throwing herself at him. She raised her arms, putting them against his warm chest and clutching at the fabric of his pajamas. "Okay," she murmured. "Vash, please be ready for this."

Vash gave her shoulder an amorous squeeze in assurance.

"Something really wonderful has happened to me," Meryl breathed to him.

"And you've been making it seem so horrible."

"Vash!"

"I'm sorry."

Meryl took a deep breath, her body shaking.

"Vash…I'm…"

"Mm?"

"I'm…expecting." Meryl squeaked shrilly.

"Expecting what?" Vash asked thickly. Meryl growled lightly.

"Ahh! You _know_ what I mean!"

"No, I don't."

"Grr! You are so dumb sometimes!" Meryl groused.

"_Dumb?_ You're being evasive! It's hardly a matter of me being stupid!" Vash retorted hotly.

"Fine! I'm pregnant, okay? There! Are you happy now?"

Vash froze. Meryl draped her arms over him, a mixture of fear, happiness and petulance at Vash's stupidity coursing through her.

"You're really serious, aren't you?"

"You think I'd joke about a thing like that!"

"Meryl, that's," Vash stammered. Then a small smile crept up his face. "Meryl, that's fantastic!" And with that he hugged her so tight, she could barely return his affection.

Meryl beamed. "I know. I'm really, really happy."

"So am I!" Vash declared, spontaneously hoisting Meryl off her feet and twirling around the room with her. "I'm so happy! I'm, I'm! –Oh, Meryl!"

"I know," Meryl replied, staring deep into Vash's smile, savoring the happy moment they were sharing. She gave back his smile, leant down and kissed his cheek.

-

"_Daddy?" Came a tiny voice of a child from a nearby threshold. The child's father jumped slightly, drawing his eyes away from the album on the table in front of him._

"_What is it, sweetie?" He replied croakily, giving his child a tired smile._

"_I can't sleep. Can I have a drink?"_

"_Yes. Yes, of course you can."_

"_Can you get it for me?"_

"_Sure. What would you like?"_

"_Just a drink of water."_

_-_

The following morning, Meryl awoke feeling entirely content. She propped herself up onto her elbows and looked around. Every seemed beautiful that morning. The gentle breeze fanning the gossamer curtains, the mid-morning sunlight flowing in through the French windows, the cool, fluffy feather pillows; the simple scene and atmosphere surrounding Meryl made her feel completely relaxed. She flopped back down onto the pillows, smiling to herself.

'_What a perfect morning,'_ she contemplated. Wait. Something was missing. She glanced at the space next to her and saw only quilt. He wasn't there with her.

"Vash?" she called, somewhat anxiously. _Where_ was he?

'_Wait. What time is it?'_ Meryl looked to a clock on the dry wall. _'Oh.'_ It dawned on her. Of course Vash wasn't still in bed! He rose at sparrow's, for heaven's sake! Who could have expected him to stay in bed until ten o'clock?

"Ten o'clock?" Meryl digested the information. "Ah! I overslept!" she shrieked, flying out of bed. Meryl never liked to sleep more than the healthy amount of eight hours.

"Yes, indeed you did! And I'm very ashamed of you," came a mock scornful voice from outside the bedroom door. "You should've been housecleaning hours ago, little miss slugabed!" Vash pushed open the door with his elbow, carrying a tray laden with toast, pancakes, waffles, fried eggs and a jug of orange juice. Meryl stared.

"Sit!" Vash ordered with the air of a looming schoolteacher. "Back in bed, you!"

Meryl suppressed a snort of laughter and sat back down on the bed. Smirking, Vash strode over to her and laid the tray across her lap.

"Breakfast in bed," he announced.

Meryl looked down at the contents of her meal.

"Well aren't you being strangely lovely?" Meryl eyed Vash suspiciously, furrowing her brow. Vash whistled innocently. Meryl paused then began to sniff the air.

"What?" Vash said defensively, staring at her.

"I can't smell smoke," she said. "I didn't know you could cook without imploding something," she sneered. Vash glowered.

"Eat!" he insisted. Meryl chuckled, raising a waffle to her mouth. Vash took a seat on the bed and reclined.

"Aren't you going to eat something?" Meryl asked after finishing an egg.

"Oh, already ate," Vash replied simply, folding his arms behind his head.

"I see," said Meryl. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and finished her meal with one last pancake, leaving a little less than half of it to waste.

"That was actually quite nice," she said, lightly dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Lovely, in fact," she added, much to Vash's surprise. "And I can't eat another bite." Vash smiled warmly at her.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, taking the tray off her.

"I did. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Vash took the tray and made for the door.

"I should tell you that I'm pregnant every day, if that's the kind of treatment you give me for it," Meryl tittered

"Heh. Maybe," Vash chuckled. "But I'm sure you would get it anyway." With that he blew her a tiny kiss and left the room smiling. And it was true. Meryl did receive lovely treatment from Vash from that day on, no matter what mood she was in.

Months passed easily by and Meryl began to take the expected symptoms as her middle gradually widened. Milly was helpful and supportive of Meryl, by her side almost always and caring for her when a less than wonderful symptom took its toll.

-

"_There you go, honey."_

"_Thanks, dad," the small child said, taking the glass of water from their father's hand and toddling back towards their bedroom. "G'night, daddy," they bid._

"_Good night, sweetie. Sleep well."_

_The somnolent male sighed, slumping down onto a somewhat moth-eaten sofa, resting his head in his hands. A large figure clad in bright yellow pajamas appeared at the doorway of another bedroom, unnoticed by him._

"_You're still up, mister Vash?" exclaimed the woman in the vivid nightclothes._

* * *

And there is, as they say, chapter two for you. :0 

Review?


	3. Momentary

Author's Prattlings: This chapter is dedicated to RYU. :3 And dankeschörn to those few people who were beautiful enough to review. You have inspired me and, god knows, I need inspiration to write even _adequately_! 

;again Standard Disclaimer applies.

* * *

_**Chapter three: Momentary**_

"Another pancake, Mister Knives?" Milly offered kindly, smiling routinely.

"Yes, thank you," Knives replied politely as Milly lowered the soft, sugary disk onto his plate.

"How many is that you've had? Eight? Come on! Leave some for the rest of us!" Vash whined at his brother, scowling. Knives returned the scowl.

"You mean for you?" he corrected. Vash hissed, filching the fresh pancake off Knives plate. Knives rolled his eyes. "And eight, you say? Haven't you wolfed down a grand total of twelve, brother?" he remarked.

"I-" Vash swallowed a syrupy mouthful of the pancake. "-appreciate the finer things in life," he scoffed, smirking at his brother.

"Here, here!" Milly roared, waving fork-skewered pancake around.

Knives gave Vash a scathing look.

"And that gives you right to steal MY food?" he bellowed.

"To a degree," Vash giggled. Knives snarled loudly.

"Come now," Meryl said, making a nervous effort to intervene. The twins looked at her. "There's plenty for both of you!" Vash and Knives looked from Meryl to the great center-plate on the table, abundant in pancakes.

"Ooh," they registered slowly, both giving modest laughs.

"S-sorry," Vash chuckled to Knives. Knives shrugged, a little red in the face, helping himself to more breakfast. Milly giggled at the twins. Meryl sighed resignedly. They were _always_ like this at breakfast.

It had been a few months since Knives' awakening and he couldn't have been less hostile, it seemed suspicious. The moment he laid eyes on Vash he simply said, "You win," as though he accepted inglorious defeat and would live on abiding by Vash's rules. To Meryl, Knives' presence in their dwelling was at first alarming and frightening but over time she learnt to live with him being a new member of the household. Milly, however, was always accommodatingly nice and polite to him. For this it seemed Knives respected her. Respected her for being a doormat, as it were, Meryl often thought bitterly.

_'He's polite, I suppose,'_ Meryl would consider, giving him credit for that somewhat redeeming quality. And he was polite—he often volunteered to help with chores and the preparing of meals; and he wasn't that bad at cooking, either. Certainly better than Vash in the sense he could avoid cutlery melting and appliances haphazardly exploding. Despite the callous atmosphere that exuded whenever Knives was near, he did seem to make and effort to be a decent person. Of course, he acted coldly towards his brother at times but at the same time that could be excused, withstanding their differences. Nonetheless, Vash remained domineering when he needed to be. Meryl felt far safer in Knives' company if Vash was with her. Knives knew his brother would not be indecisive to put another cartridge of bullets through him, should he recover his former ideals and decide to attack Milly or Meryl. In Vash's wake he remained respectable. Reformed, in a manner of speaking.

As brothers, the twins did argue a little (Little was to say the least.) but they never seriously threatened one another or made any appalling annotations. The only thing appalling was their manners at the dinner table. But their relationship wasn't always on the cool side. Indeed they bickered until they were told to stop but, dismissing that, they also got on well at times. _'Sometimes too well'_, Meryl thought. Even without considering their similarity in appearance, it was easy to tell they were brothers and just as easy to see that they were twins.

"Well," Vash said, neatly pushing his plate forward. "I must be going. I have to be somewhere." He rose from his seat and strode towards the door. "Seeya!" he bade pleasantly.

"Mister Vash!" Milly called after him as he set a foot on the porch.

"Mm?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she posed, lightly inclining her head in Meryl's direction.

"You're right, I am," Vash replied, promptly going to Meryl's side and kissing her cheek. Meryl flushed, unable to speak with her mouth full of pancake and maple syrup.

"Bye now," he said, smiling. Meryl gave him a meek wave as he whipped out the door.

"Mister Vash seems to go out a lot nowadays, doesn't he?" Milly observed, clearing away her own and Vash's plate. This was true; Vash was often leaving the house on certain days of the week and returning four or five, sometimes more, hours after his departure. Occasionally he would return after nightfall.

Knives shook his head in disregard, tsking.

"Natural-born drifter, that one…" he said drably, sipping a cup of tea.

"That worries me a little," Meryl said bleakly. "He never actually tells us where he goes."

"Maybe he's cheating on you," Knives suggested unkindly as Milly left the room, out of earshot. Meryl turned to Knives, an unpleasant look on her face.

"I doubt it," she spat derisively, rising up from her chair but quickly sitting back down again, putting a hand gingerly to her middle.

"You never know," Knives continued calmly. "Like you said, he doesn't tell you where he gets off to." He ignored more dirty looks from Meryl, remaining composed, slipping more food into his mouth. Meryl was convinced that Vash was not cheating on her. How could he? She was pregnant, for heaven's sake! But then again it had never occurred to Meryl as a possibility. Consequently she sat mulling over it until Knives spoke out: "Then again…he does seem to love you, doesn't he?"

Meryl paused, silent. Knives registered the uncertainty in the air.

"Don't tell me he's never even said 'I love you'!" he exclaimed incredulously. Meryl scowled at him.

"My, my…" he said. "What a predicament." Meryl slammed a fist down on the table, outraged.

"I'm quite sure he does love me!" she snapped vehemently.

"I guess," Knives replied carefully though remaining quite poised. Meryl continued to glower.

"Are there many good-looking women in this backwater town?" he asked a little derisively.

"I wouldn't notice."

"I see." Knives sipped the last droplets from his teacup. "Well," he began, leaning back. "Giving my dear brother credit, it seems to me that he's not likely to cheat on you if he really does love you," he said matter-of-factly.

"Thank you so much for your vote of confidence," Meryl replied cynically.

"However," Knives added, ignoring Meryl's irreverence. "My brother's taste in women is rather _impeccable_." He returned the sarcasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Knives smirked at Meryl. Meryl rolled her eyes.

"You're just as annoying as he is," she declared. Milly entered the room.

"Admirable fare," Knives grinned up at her.

"Why, thank you, Mister Knives! I take it you liked the pancakes, then?"

"Superb," he flattered.

Milly chuckled embarrassedly. Meryl gave Knives a wary look. She didn't trust in the slightest.

"Hmph," she pouted. Knives looked at her and suddenly she felt a furious pain in her stomach. "Ah!" she gasped, folding her arms tightly over her middle and cringing.

"Oh my! Meryl!" Milly darted to her side. "Are you alright?"

Meryl winced, although the pain gently ebbed away.

"Y-yes," she said, breathing a little heavily as the pain dulled to a small throb. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Oh good," Milly said, heaving a sigh of relief. "Would you like to lie down, Meryl?"

Meryl nodded slowly. "Yes. I think I should." Milly helped Meryl tenderly to her feet and led her into the living room.

"You're sweating, Meryl," Milly said, letting Meryl gently down onto the sofa.

"Am I?"

"I'll get a flannel. You just lie still, okay, Meryl?"

Meryl nodded weakly, laying her head down on a pillow.

"Do you need anything, Miss Meryl?" Meryl heard Knives inquire politely from the kitchen.

"N-no. I'm fine, thank you," she replied faintly. Meryl shifted nervously. For a moment, the look in Knives eyes had seemed very fierce. And she could have sworn that rather than looking at her, he had looked at her middle.

"I'll finish the washing up for you," Meryl heard Knives tell Milly.

"Thank you," Milly said. Milly reappeared and knelt down beside Meryl, dabbing her face gently with the flannel.

"Are you sure you're alright, Meryl?" she asked concernedly.

Meryl nodded.

"It was only temporary. It was just quite painful. I'm fine now, really."

"Oh, I see," said Milly. "Well you should just rest for an hour or two just in case," she added.

"But I put a load of laundry in the machine this morning and—"

"I'll take care of it," Milly cut in. "You can't work if you're not feeling well. Don't worry."

"Paperwork! The monthly report—" Meryl protested.

"Isn't due until next month, Meryl! You finished this month's report last week, remember?" Milly said exasperatedly.

"Oh yes…I guess I did," Meryl resigned.

"Just rest, Meryl," Milly sighed.

"Okay, Milly."

"Good. I'll go hang the laundry out for you then."

"I'll help you with that, Milly," Knives volunteered, appearing at the threshold.

"Thank you, Mister Knives." Milly stood up and they went outside together.

Meryl sighed, slightly relieved that Knives was assisting Milly rather than boding unfriendly presence in the room next to her. For the longest time Meryl just lay staring at the ceiling, rather bored. She tossed every so often, holding her middle as if protectively until sleep found her.

-

_The weary male looked up. _

_"I can't sleep," he said hoarsely. The woman registered the open book on the table. She took a seat beside him, placing a comforting arm around him. _

_"Looking at the photo album again, huh?" she asked, already knowing the response. _

_The man nodded, not looking at her. _

_"Mister Vash…" she spoke gently. "It's been eight years." _

_"I know." _

_"Try to get some sleep," she pleaded. "You look awful. And you're going to come down with something if you start staying up to all hours again." _

_"I know." _

_She sighed. _

_-_

Meryl opened her eyes gradually. A nice savory smell was wafting in from the kitchen and she could hear voices. She turned her head to look out the window. The light outside was gone and it suddenly dawned on her that she had slept out the whole day.

"Oh, you're awake!"

Meryl sat up and turned her head.

"When did you get home?" Meryl asked a cheerful looking Vash, her voice slightly croaky.

"An hour or two ago," he said, pacing over to the sofa and kneeling down beside Meryl.

"I see."

"Milly said you weren't feeling well today." Vash expressed a look of concern.

"Oh. No. I just got one of those fleeting pains," she verified. "I'm fine now. It was just one of those…" Meryl paused, feeling Vash's hand close gently over her own. "…one of those…" She could feel his warmth as he drew closer, his other hand now on her cheek. "…momentary pains…" She shut her eyes, a feather light touch on her lips.

"DINNER'S READY!"

They quickly jerked away from one another, Milly's voice having cut mercilessly between them. Meryl and Vash sat in awkward silence. Milly poked her head in the door, smiling as usual.

"Oh." She flushed slightly. "Did I wake you up, Meryl?"

"No," Meryl said, having to force a less irritable tone into her voice. "No. I was already awake, Milly."

"Oh okay. Well, dinner is waiting—fettuccini tonight!"

"That sounds nice. Just give me a minute, Milly."

Milly nodded and left. Meryl looked at Vash and sighed despairingly as he sniggered.

"Shut up!" she growled, her cheeks turning an angry shade of red. Vash grinned up at her.

"Stop that!" she snapped, aiming a slap at him. Vash seized her hand and swiftly planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm hungry," he said, gazing at Meryl with beady, triumphant eyes. Meryl couldn't force away a stupid grin.

"Me too," she snorted, letting Vash pull her to her feet and lead her into the dining room.

"Late for dinner, you cad," Knives mocked from his seat at the dinner table. Vash flaunted his tongue in Knives' direction. Milly and Meryl laughed.

-

_"I know," he repeated. "But you're right." _

_The woman nodded, putting her other arm caringly around her friend. _

_"Do you still…?" he posed. _

_"No. I believe he wouldn't want me to live grieving for him," she replied with air of wisdom beyond her years. The man smiled. _

_"No, he wouldn't," he agreed, returning the hug, burying his face in the sunny cloth of his companion's pajamas. _

_"Thank you, Milly," he whispered. "It is important for me to stay strong." _

_She nodded. _

_"For Lavender." _

* * *

Is Knives to be trusted? 

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	4. ‘Congratulations!’

Author's Gibberish: Bah. Forgive the lame-er-ness of this chapter. .-. Thank you to reviewers, however. :D You make it possible for me to write. You are all very inspirational and you have my infinite gratitude. It's nice to know that some people don't think my work is absolute _crap_. Mind you, I am one of those people who have said sentiment. But, as they say, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Anyway, Enjoy. :3

Oh yes, and an apology must be made for the mass of errors that have been made so far! x.x Gomen na.

;Standard disclaimer applies as usual.

* * *

**_Chapter four: 'Congratulations!'_**

"That was yummy!" Vash declared cordially after finishing his third helping of fettuccini.

"Admirable fare, indeed," Knives added, patting his lips with a napkin.

"Is it very nice," Meryl agreed quietly, still padding along on her first and only serving, her head beginning to ache. Milly flushed bright red.

"Aw, you guys," she tittered. Meryl stared down at the cheesy dish in front of her. She had never known Milly to be such a great cook. Meryl smiled.

"It seems you've outdone yourself, Milly," she said.

"Oh no. Not really. My big brother used to make me help him cook meals all the time when I was little," Milly replied modestly. "Fettuccini was little sister's favourite."

"I see."

"Well, I'll go wash up then." Milly began clearing away the dishes and cutlery.

"Milly, you've been working all day!" Meryl exclaimed. Vash and Knives nodded in agreement.

"You have, indeed," said Knives.

"Oh, I don't mind." Milly smiled cheerily.

"Well I do," said Meryl decisively, standing up gingerly with a hand on her middle. "I'll do them, Milly. I need to do my share. I can't just sleep a whole day and then do nothing to help out."

"Oh, Meryl, are you sure?" Milly asked, concern written on her face. "I mean—"

"I'll help," Vash said, standing and clearing away the lingering cutlery. Meryl nodded and followed him into the kitchen.

"I'll wash," she said as he began running the water. Vash shrugged and picked up a nearby tea towel. Meryl sighed deeply, stewing to herself as she rinsed plate after plate. The day had been odd, frightening even. Knives was most certainly beginning to get to her. Could Vash be cheating on her? Would he? No, her mind firmly told her. But then again, the notion kept coming hauntingly back to her as a possibility. And the way Knives had looked at her... It was penetrating. His eyes had been so slaying. For a fleeting moment she knew she had seen hatred in them. The deepest loathing she had ever seen a person's eyes carry. She shivered in her boots, a cavernous feeling of insecurity coming over her. In the months since Knives wad woken, Meryl had become more and more fearful for her safety with Knives around. She was frightened more so, however, that Knives could turn on them and do something awful to Milly when neither Vash nor Meryl were around. No, she wouldn't let that happen. Milly would not get hurt. Meryl would make sure to protect her friend. She quickly put Knives out of her mind. It was only then that she realized how much hers and Vash's lives had intertwined. How much Meryl had changed since she met Vash…

-

_"Goodnight, Milly," he said softly._

"_Goodnight. Sleep well," she replied, getting up and plodding back into her own room, teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms._

_He took one last heavy-eyed look at the photo album, engrossed in the photo of his love, a single tear beginning a trail down his cheek. The last of his grief spent, he flipped over the page and looked at a photo of a small girl instead._

"_Lavender…" he whispered inaudibly to himself. "What would I do without you?"_

-

"Meryl?" Vash's voice said distantly. "Meryl!" Meryl zoned in.

"Ur, yes? What is it, Vash?" she muttered.

"You're frowning," he said. "And you don't look so good, either," he added.

"Oh, sorry," she replied vaguely. Vash gave her an odd look and piteous chuckle.

"Umm…listen," he began. Meryl stared at her water-immersed hands.

"Oh, miss Meryl," Knives interrupted. Meryl flinched into complete alertness.

"Yes?" she replied solemnly.

"You got a letter today."

"Oh, I see. Did it say whom from?" she enquired.

"That insurance company you work for," Knives said, bored. "It's on the table."

"Thank you."

'_It's about a problem with my routine reports and paperwork, I just _know_ it!' _Meryl groused mentally as she dried her hands. She grabbed the letter and flopped onto a sofa in the lounge, incising the envelope open with her fingernail.

"_Miss Stryfe,_" the letter began formally.

'_It should be Ms now, I suppose,'_ Meryl considered.

"_Miss Stryfe,_

_We have received your request for maternity leave. In order to validate your leave, we require you to return to the main office in Bernardelli by the end of next month and present your doctor's certificate and—"_

The letter fell from Meryl's hand. She was stunned. How did the insurance society know she was pregnant? She hadn't sent away for maternity leave. Then it dawned on her.

"Milly!" she shouted irately.

"Yes Meryl? What is it?" Milly appeared at the top of the cellar stairs, smiling amiably.

"Milly, what is this?" Meryl pouted, snatching the letter off her lap and jerking her finger into it.

"That's a letter, Meryl," Milly said gently with the air of explaining something to a horridly senile person.

"I know what it is!" Meryl retorted. "I want to know what it's doing here!"

"Being read?" Milly offered thoughtfully.

"MILLY!" Meryl stormed. "It was you! Why'd you send away for maternity leave for me!"

Milly frowned.

"Come on, Meryl. We both know that you wouldn't have done it yourself," she said hopelessly. "You're pregnant, Meryl. It's only natural that you need time off work."

"I do not need time off work! I'm behind in my paperwork and if I don't—"

"Meryl, you need to take it easy," Milly pleaded. Vash suddenly appeared beside her, a grim look on his face.

"Milly's right. If you continue to put this kind of strain on yourself, you'll end up hurting yourself," he said.

"But—!" Meryl griped. Vash and Milly both grimaced at her and shook their heads. Meryl sighed deeply.

"Alright," she conceded, sighing acutely. "I'll go back to Bernardelli tomorrow, then," she said, putting a hand over her abdomen and letting the letter hover down to the floor.

"Good," Milly said, taking a seat next her friend and flinging an arm around her. "Would you like me to come with you?"

Meryl thought for a moment.

"No," she said. "No. It'll be fine. I'll go alone."

The following morning, Meryl traipsed slowly through her breakfast as usual, not paying attention to the bickering either side of her.

"I want the last one!" she barely heard Vash groan.

After breakfast, Milly helped Meryl load her bags into the jeep they had borrowed from the kindly neighbor. Meryl filed woefully into the driver's seat.

"Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself, Meryl?" Milly fretted. "It is a three day drive, after all…"

"I'll be fine, Milly," Meryl assured. "I…" Meryl hesitated, making a gesture with her hand. Milly leaned closer.

"I need a little time to myself, anyway," she whispered.

"Oh…" Milly nodded. "I understand," she said.

"Well, I'll see you all when I get back," Meryl said, forcing a smile.

"Bye! –Oh wait!" Vash called as Meryl put her hand on the ignition. Vash rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a small box.

"Here." He handed it to Meryl. Meryl glanced at the label and smiled. A pain reliever. Just what she needed.

"Thanks," she said. Vash gave her a light kiss.

"Take care of yourself," he warned.

"I will," Meryl assured, starting the car. "Bye now!" She waved goodbye and purred off into the distance.

For the first half hour or so, Meryl was content simply driving and letting the wind whip her hair about, but as she drew further and further into constant sand, she grew steadily bored. She flicked the radio on and began adjusting the frequency, attempting to find the least fuzzy signal, settling on a nice station that played contemporary and chill out music. Around lunch time the atmosphere grew hot and the sand glared at her. Meryl slipped her sunglasses on. Her mind slowly drifted away from the music and she began to brood over night before…

"Vash? What are doing up at this time of night?" she had gasped, peering through the darkness at his moonlit shoulders hunched over something at the kitchen table. Vash flinched at her voice and Meryl heard the small 'clink' of metal falling on metal.

"Er… Nothing… Not feeling well…Can't sleep…" Vash stammered nervously, keeping his back to her. "What are _you _doing up this time of night?" he said defensively, fiddling with something in front of him. Again, Meryl registered a tiny 'clink', as if something fastened into place.

"I slept all day, so I can't really sleep now," Meryl stated quietly. "What's that you've got?"

"What's what, what I've got? I haven't got anything," Vash added, leaning forward and hugging the mystery item beneath his chest.

"Yes, you do!" Meryl said hotly, but trying not to raise her voice. She strode over to him. "Why are you hunching like that?" she enquired. "Show me what you're hiding."

"Honestly Meryl I don't know what you're talking about—oh this!" Vash laughed nervously as Meryl ripped a small, ebony, metal box out from under him. There was a padlock on it.

"What's in it?" Meryl asked.

"Stuff."

"Obviously," she said tersely. "What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff kinda stuff. Can I have it back, please?" Vash whined.

"What kind of stuff is in there?" Meryl growled.

"Private stuff!" Vash snapped, taking Meryl slightly aback.

"Okay," she surrendered, handing the box back to Vash. "You could have just said that."

"Sorry."

Meryl sighed and went into the kitchen, and Vash into the sitting room. She got herself a small cup of water, deeply immersed in her own thoughts. Sipping down the last few drops, she trudged into the lounge room and slumped down into a couch, whimpering, not noticing she had just sat on the couch's new occupant.

"You alright?" Vash asked softly as Meryl snuggled inadvertently into his cushiony chest. Meryl paused.

"Ah! I sat on you! Sorry," she mumbled. Vash smiled and took her in his arms, Meryl willingly curling up in his lap.

"Are you okay, Meryl?" Vash whispered. "You haven't exactly been yourself for a day or two."

"Oh, I'm completely fine," Meryl said, less than reassuringly, as Vash gave her a pleading look. Meryl sighed. "No… No, I'm not fine."

"What's up?"

"I just…ahhh" she groaned. "You're up. You and your brother and this whole…" she trailed off, her eyes stinging. "I'm stressed, Vash. Really stressed," she sniffed.

Vash gave a sympathetic look and hugged her.

"Vash?" Meryl whimpered.

"Mm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Vash nodded. "Of course you can."

"Vash, are you…" she started, quivering slightly. "Are you…Vash, are you cheating on me?"

Vash stared, totally dumbstruck.

"Meryl, where'd you get _that_ idea?" he asked finally.

"Your brother."

Vash growled derisively.

"I'm sorry," Meryl said, tensing up fearfully.

"No, it's not your fault," Vash replied, tightening his hold on her. "Meryl, of course I'm not cheating on you. You shouldn't listen to my brother."

Meryl nodded in agreement.

"Besides, he's just jealous."

"Heh."

Vash hugged her again.

"No way am I cheating on you, Meryl."

Meryl snivelled and clung tightly to him, burying her face in his torso.

"What else is bothering you?" Vash asked, petting her hair soothingly.

"Nothing," Meryl lied, and for the longest time she just sat in her lover's lap, relishing in the warmth that radiated from his body. "Vash?" she murmured.

"Yes?" he replied, now combing her hair with his fingers.

"Do you love me?"

Vash slipped his hand beneath Meryl's chin and planted a deep kiss on her lips.

"I do."

Meryl jerked out of her thoughts at the sound of a DJ's loud burbles. She huffed irritably, though thankful she had not just simply fallen asleep at the wheel during her daydream. She spent that night, and the next, in rather unkempt, dismal-looking hotels in small towns, hardly receiving much sleep at all. She ate little in between trips, albeit her stomach was screaming at her to do otherwise. And all too soon for her own liking, she was standing at the foot of the steps in face of the tall block of offices that was the main office of the Bernardelli insurance society. It was less welcoming than usual, Meryl noticed as she hesitated to enter. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't. By now all her fellows would know that she was pregnant and due in only a couple of months. What would they think? Meryl wasn't even married! And even more disconcerting, what would they think if they knew the child's father was Vash the Stampede? Meryl cast miserably around, consciously trying to distract herself from the task at hand. It was nearly midday and all the typical people were out and about at their daily business and daily affairs, with not an inkling to what was going on inside Meryl's head. Some of them she knew and remembered by face and costume, some she had never seen before. Meryl rummaged around in her petite handbag, retrieved her purse and checked to see whether, if by any slight chance, she could simply say: "Oops, silly me. I forgot my doctor's certificate!"

Meryl sighed resignedly. The dreadful little piece of paper was there, standing proudly out like a shag on a peak. She suddenly noticed something behind it. She removed the folded certificate from the little slot and registered a cute photo of a very sleepy looking Vash in navy jeans, a sleek black turtleneck and curled up like a cat on a beanbag, his hair a complete mess. _'Funny…Milly must have slipped that in.' _She gave a little smile, but closed up her wallet and shoved it back in her handbag.

"No helping it," she moaned to herself and proceeded slowly up the steps, head held low as if she were walking to her death. She stopped at the door and took a deep breath. She put a hand into her bag again and got out the minute packet Vash had given her. _'Good thinking, Vash,'_ she thought as she popped one of the white capsules into her mouth and swallowed. She steeled and braced herself then gently grasped the handle and creaked the door open. _'What the…?'_ Where the hell was everybody? The place was completely empty.

"Uh…" she posed, coaxing for some sign of life to make itself known. "Is any—"

"MERYL'S PREGGERS!" a woman screamed. Meryl yelped as every second employee of the office jumped out at her, greeting her with tumultuous applause and a multitude of streamers and confetti. Meryl shielded herself with her arms, cowering back against the door as they all yelled at her in unison: "CONGRATULATIONS!"

* * *

No, no, no, no, Vashie, don't lie. :0 

Go on. Review. You know it makes sense.


	5. Silver Mistake

Author's Mutterings: Wuaha. This chapter is for those lovely pink featherballs, Klutzy, who likes to bites my fingers, and Archie, who can say 'scratch.' And be assured, they will get cameos in the next chapter. :3

Gomen na if anyone thinks this chapter is boring. .-. There is rather alot of dialogue, isn't there?

;-standard disclaimer inserted here-**_

* * *

_**

**_Chapter five: Silver Mistake_**

"And Meryl…" the chief continued as Meryl scribbled her signature down on the custom maternity leave form.

"Yes?" Meryl looked up, respect in her eyes.

"Congratulations, Meryl," he said.

"Oh, thank you." Meryl flushed scarlet.

"Did you enjoy the party?" he asked.

"Oh yes. It was nice…"

"You be sure to take care of yourself," he told her.

"Oh, I will! And don't worry, I'll be very efficient with my routine repor—"

"Meryl, does it ever occur to you why you sometimes feel terribly tired and over-worked?" he laughed.

"Sir?" Meryl posed, confused.

"Maternity leave is maternity leave, Meryl. You can discontinue your reports until the end of next February," he explained for the third time.

"Oh," Meryl registered sullenly. "Okay."

Her chief laughed again.

"Meryl, I do admire your enthusiasm in your work but try to take it easy, okay?"

Meryl nodded.

"That's an order!" he exclaimed and they both chuckled.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be in touch."

"You're not staying in Bernardelli?" He shot Meryl a puzzled look.

"Oh. No. I have to return to Milly and Va—Mister Vash," Meryl corrected herself. She hadn't so far told anyone that Vash was the father of her child, and the use of his name without formalities could suggest something, even if it was just the slightest hint of friendship. No, she intended to keep it her own secret how very fond of Vash she was.

"Meryl, I'm sure Milly can handle it," said the chief. "As you've said countless times in your reports, he is not so deadly. And haven't I just been explaining to you for the past half hour what maternity leave is?"

Meryl made something close to a wince.

"Well…yes," she conceded. God, how could she explain it? "But I feel I would rather be with Milly, anyway. Just to be safe," she added quickly. "And I feel safer around Milly, as well."

"I understand. Well, good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

-

_Sleep eluded the weary male that night. When he did finally drift away into the confines of darkness, he was disturbed by a dream, or rather a nightmare._

_-_

"Meryyyyyyyyyl!" squealed a bunch of Meryl's giggly uniformed workmates as she departed from the chief's office.

"I can't believe it, Meryl!" cried Meryl's friend Karen, her honey-on-toast coloured locks bobbing up and down as she and the others flitted towards her.

"Hi, Karen," Meryl said weakly. "Hi, everyone," She gave a docile wave as they crowded around her. "How've you all been?"

"Who cares about us? What about you!" giggled Meghan, her own brown hair swaying as she did, her cheeks red.

"Yeah! Give us all the goss!" Bonnie shouted, almost tackling Meryl over.

"Ahah! What… do you mean?" Meryl stammered.

"Meryl, I'm so psyched that you're p-pregnant! It's just so cool! You know I've always looked up to you!" simpered Natalie, clamping onto Meryl's arm, her arctic blue eyes sparkling. Veronica and Jill chuckled, big, cheesy grins on their faces.

"Er, thank you," Meryl said, smiling uneasily. "Hey, guys, I'm really thirsty—"

"Great idea!" Karen intercepted loudly. "Let's all go to the tearoom!"

"Yay!" they all shouted and scuffled Meryl up the stairs into the recreation room.

-

_A figure wreathed in shadow stood triumphantly over the small, limp body of another. The figure's eyes stood luridly out from the darkness that consumed them both. They shone like two great moons, but with an icy blaze of malice and cruelty. A high, cold laugh expelled from the figure's lips…_

-

"So…!" Karen began with an uncharacteristic titter as everyone made themselves comfy on the sofas and recliners in the tearoom, beverages and snacks in their hands.

"So…" she reiterated. "What's he like?"

Meryl stared blankly as they all shifted closer in their seats into greater earshot, grinning like hyenas.

"Umm…Who?" she asked, feeling very stupid. Bonnie made a preppy, fake cough.

"Who else, Meryl?" she said, setting her teacup back on its saucer and crossing one black stocking-clad leg over the other.

"No, really," Meryl said hopelessly.

"Your boyfriend, of course!" Natalie giggled shrilly. Veronica put a black hand over her mouth, hiding a smirk.

"Is he cute?" Meghan asked with a dreamy look swathing her face. Meryl flushed, at a total loss for speech.

"Well…I…uh…" Meryl stuttered, averting their gawking eyes. God, was there any way at all for her to get out of this? She thought frantically for anything that could prevent her from having to divulge her secrets, or worse lie about them.

"Uh…Hey, guys, it was really nice of you to throw me a party!" she said brightly. "I guess…"

They all shrugged.

"Come on, Meryl! Tell us about your flame!" coaxed Jill, shooting Meryl a furtive glance. The others nodded and grinned. Meryl sighed wearily.

"Well…" she began, deciding there was no other way. She would have to be as vague as possible. "Well…he's very…"

"Ye-es?" prodded Bonnie.

"…nice," Meryl said quietly and sipped embarrassedly at her coffee.

"Auuugh…" Veronica groaned. "Is that all?" she said wryly.

"Tell us more, Meryl!" whined Meghan. "Get to the _good_ parts!" Meryl looked woefully at her lap. Natalie snuggled up beside her.

"How long have you been together, Meryl?" she asked politely. Meryl thought about this.

"About four years," she replied. This was partly true. She had met Vash nearly four years previously, though it wasn't true that they had sparked straight away.

"Gawd! That long? And you never told me?" Karen wailed. "You never tell me _anything_, Meryl!"

"We were separated for nearly two years, though," Meryl added.

"Oh, that must have been hard for you," Natalie empathized.

"Wait! Four years ago?" Veronica suddenly spoke up. "Wasn't that the time when you and Milly started stalking Vash the Stampede?"

'_Shitshitshit_,' Meryl cussed mentally.

"Oh yeah! Wouldn't that have clashed with your dating, Meryl?" Jill pointed out.

"Well, we weren't _stalking_ Vash the Stampede, Veronica," Meryl said, avoiding Jill and the subject at hand.

"Fine. Whatever. But Jill's right. How could you have dated someone while you were assigned to pursue Vash the Stampede?" Veronica asked.

"Well…" '_Shit._' "We met him on the way!" Meryl said the first lie that came to mind.

"Ah," everyone said slowly. Meryl heaved a psychological sigh of relief.

"So it seems he doesn't really believe in 'wasting time'?" Bonnie enquired, smirking.

Meryl blushed, folding her hands protectively over her bulgy middle.

"Well, I think it's _wonderful_ that Meryl's gonna be a mummy!" exclaimed Natalie affably, clicking her tongue in a gnat-like way. Everyone nodded their agreement.

"Indeed," said Bonnie.

"Congratulations to Meryl!" announced Karen, raising her teacup, proposing a funny sort of toast.

"Here, here!" said Meghan brightly. They all raised their cups and giggled. Meryl apprehensively elevated her coffee mug a little and followed suit as everyone took a neat sip. Meghan suddenly gasped, accidentally inhaling her tea and spluttering.

"Oh my!" she coughed. "What a _gorgeous_ ring!"

Meryl looked up. "Huh?" she mumbled.

"You're engaged, too?" Karen exclaimed.

"What?" Meryl said incredulously. "I never said that!"

"Oh my goodness!" Veronica lauded. "Look at that _diamond_!"

"What?" Meryl repeated. They were all staring at her left hand, their mouths agape.

"Oh, can I have a closer look, please, Meryl?" Natalie whined.

"What are you idiots talking about!" Meryl shouted, making Natalie scuttle onto the opposite couch in fright.

"We are not idiots! Look at your hand, stupid!" Bonnie retorted, jabbing her finger at Meryl's hand. Meryl glanced down and stared. There on her finger was a beautiful engagement ring. The design was simple, yet notably elegant. It was a band of pure, shining silver with three neat diagonal etches left of center where a bluish diamond was embedded and twinkling. On the whole, it looked exceptionally expensive.

"Your boyfriend—or should I say fiancé—must be loaded!" said Jill.

"I wish my boyfriend would propose to me," sighed Meghan. "That would be so dreamy."

Meryl continued to stare at her hand, mouth agape, and a million unfathomable questions running through her head at once.

"Uh…Meryl?" Karen probed after what seemed like an eternity. Meryl jerked out of her stupor and gasped, realizing she had not breathed for several moments.

"Are you okay?" Karen said gently.

"Uh…" Meryl was choking on information and the questions in her head. Everything she heard was slipping in one ear, muddling her thoughts and following out the other ear. '_Get out!_' she became aware of her mind shrieking.

"Uh…No," Meryl managed, her eyes glazing over. She had to make a phone call. "No, I'm not okay. I feel a little sick. I…I think I'll go." She stood up, absently dropping her mug onto the coffee table and splashing the last of its contents over a distraught Bonnie.

"Ack! Meryl! What's up with you?" she growled.

"Where are you going?" Natalie asked in a whiney tone.

"I…" Meryl thought for a moment. It was difficult. "…I think I left my doctor's certificate in the chief's office," she lied shrewdly and pretended to rummage about for it in her satchel. She retrieved her wallet and, opening it, inadvertently dropped a small document of some sort.

"Snnnnatch!" Bonnie said and seized the paper before it hit the floor that was damp with coffee. "Ooh! Is this him? Your fiancé?" she asked. Meryl's blood instantaneously chilled in her veins. _'Oh god…not the photo.'_ The girls crowded around Bonnie, eager looks on their faces.

"Oh, how cute! He's all sleepy!"

"Cool! A blonde!"

"That's a lotta man!"

"Talk about cutting a slice of hunk!"

"He looks like a real backstreet boy."

"Can I see?" Karen posed, leaning over Meghan's shoulder. Meryl experienced a quaking, unexplainable sense of dread.

"Oh dear lord, that's no hunk! That's! That's! Meryl, why do you have a picture of Vash the Stampede!" Karen gaped at Meryl, her eyes full of accusing skepticism. The others gasped, turned and all gave Meryl stares of sheer bewilderment. Meryl opened her mouth then closed it and then opened it again.

"Meryl? Is there something you're no—" Meryl didn't allow Natalie time to complete her sentence. She promptly grabbed the photograph from them and fled the tearoom; all the while her eyes were spilling over with embarrassed tears. She sped away down the stairs and did not halt until she was on the first floor and safely locked in her private office. She stood with her back to the door, panting heavily and gingerly laying a hand over her stomach, her other hand scrunching the photo in desperation. She sunk to the floor, letting out a great sigh and sobbed into her knees. It was a mistake coming back, she conceded to herself. She sighed again, wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms and ignored the feminine voices issuing from the floor above, inquiring if anyone had seen where Meryl had fled. She took up the photo and smoothed it out as best she could, gazing into Vash's faintly open eyes. She would have done anything to just be safely wrapped and protected in his arms then. A little whimper escaped her lips and she laid her head on her knees, her cheeks becoming soggy with a wave of fresh tears. What had she done to deserve this kind of humiliation from hyenas like them? Meryl lifted her head and held out her hand, gazing at the audaciously shining diamond.

-

_"LAVENDER!" Vash the Stampede awoke with a jolt, a chill snaking down his spine and his body beaded in cold sweat. He sat bolt upright, panting heavily, the fragmented images of the nightmare replaying in his mind. He shivered, hugging himself and resting his forehead consolingly in his palm. He released a tiny, shaky sigh. This was not the first time he had been awoken so cruelly by that vision._

-

Meryl sighed plaintively and swabbed away the last of her tears. She picked herself up from the floor and sat at her desk, sinking low into her shoulders. Dog-eared sheets and documents scattered the surface of her desk and she had to shove copious notices onto the floor, not bothering to plant them in the bin, to locate her telephone. She grabbed up the receiver and made to dial a number but paused, suddenly realizing she did not know the number on which to contact Milly and Vash, let alone whether that house even had a telephone. She thought for a moment over the telephone numbers she knew by heart and whether the people associated with them would still go by those numbers. She swallowed back some more tears and jabbed in a few numbers. The dial tone trilled and it was a minute or so before someone picked up.

"Yes? Hello?" said a woman's smooth, voice.

"Uh…" Meryl struggled to grasp something to say.

"Meryl? Is that you, sweet pea? Gosh, it's been so _long_ since I've heard from you, darling!"

"Uh…Hi…How are you, mum?"

* * *

Oh, where did she get that ring? I _wonder_. :3 

I know I say this every chapter, buuuut...Review?


	6. Mother and Daughter

Author's rambles: Waii. Fast updates. I'm too nice. :3 Thanks, as always, to reviewers.

;Standard Disclaimer.

**_

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**_Chapter six: Mother and Daughter_**

Meryl breathed deep, standing once again below ominous steps. She clutched the handle of her luggage tighter and attempted to compose herself. She wiped her eyes clean of any remaining trace of wetness and scanned the building before her. It was almost as she remembered. The house was dry and faded, with tiny little cracks running up through the bolstered cement wall because of its age. The friendly, bayed windows with their little pot plants and hanging ferns gave it a nice French flourish and the brick-coloured, corrugated roof rose high above its neighbors to catch the last afternoon sunbeams. The difference was that it looked less welcoming now than it ever did. Albeit, Meryl had never really called it her 'home.' What was home, after all? She suddenly had a fleeting image of Vash, smiling his stupid grin, and felt a lump rise threateningly in her throat. Determined not to cry, Meryl shook Vash from her mind.

She wiped the perspiration from her brow, tried her hardest to relax, failed, and proceeded heavily up the stairs. She sighed and rang the doorbell. Moments (which, to Meryl, could not have been less like nanoseconds) later, a tall, curly haired woman in a florid dress, an intense amount of jewellry and silver stilettos opened the door with a content huff. Meryl gave her mother a wan smile. Her dress sense hadn't changed in the least.

"Hello, Meryl, darling!" she said affably in her slightly British accent, her fat, glossy pink lips twisting into a smile.

"Hello, mum," Meryl said quietly.

"Goodness, look at you, darling! Tummy large as a hippo's arse!" Meryl's mothersimpered with a little 'tsk'. The side of Meryl's mouthed twitched. Her mother had all the subtlety of rotting fish.

"Thanks, mum," Meryl said sardonically.

"Well, come on in, pigeon, come in," she replied. Therein lay another one of Meryl's mother's characteristics. She had this annoying little habit of repeating almost everything and nearly always ended her sentences with a simper and pet words such as 'sweet pea', 'darling', 'sweetie' and 'pigeon' or 'gorgeous' and words like that. She hefted up Meryl's suitcase and flitted into the living room. Meryl stepped in and tread lightly on the polished floor. She gazed at the interior before her. It hadn't changed much. To her right, two pleasant lilac sofas sat cornering a large television set with a cowhide rug placed on the floor between them. Ugly paintings plagued the creamy walls. The only nice bit of art in the whole house, Meryl thought, was a mural in the bathroom. To her left was the hallway to her mother's room and the bathroom. Directly opposite the front door was the domed archway that signified entry to the kitchen.

"I'll just put this in your room, shall I, sweetie?" Meryl's mother chirped from the base of the stairs. The stairs led to the second floor of the house that was comprised of Meryl's former bedroom, a 'granny flat' and a further bathroom.

"Yes. Thanks mum."

"Sweetie," said a scratchy, shrill voice. Meryl looked round.

"Hello, Gabby!" she burst out happily. Meryl smiled, thankful to finally see a friendly face, even if it was a feathery one. If there was one thing Meryl ultimately liked about her mother's tastes, it was her fetish for these beautiful pink and gray birds. Gabby and Boy, both females, were very striking, very expensive Galahs. Gabby rattled on the side of her domed brass cage and chirruped at Meryl as she drew closer. Boy clicked her tongue and let out a raspy: "Pretty Boy." Meryl beamed at them and opened the door to Gabby's cage. She cautiously slid her hand inside and gave Gabby a little pat. Boy wolf-whistled and bobbed her rosy pink head up and down. Gabby sidestepped onto Meryl's hand and gave her thumb an affectionate nibble.

"You can take them out of their cages if you want, sweet pea," said Meryl's mother as she reappeared at the foot of the stairs. "I just recently gave their wings a clip."

"Okay," said Meryl, gently easing Gabby out from her confines and making to open Boy's. "They look just as lovely as ever."

"Yes, they do, they do," replied her mother.

"Boy looks healthier," Meryl stated as Boy climbed out of her cage and hopped lightly onto Meryl's other hand.

"Yes. I've been feeding her on a special diet. You remember she was all sick, poor thing—" Meryl nodded. "—Yes. She was so sick. So, a year or so ago I took her to the vet and… 'pparently she was allergic to the seed I was giving her. And yes…'Course the new stuff is dearer, but I don't mind at all," her mother droned.

"Is that so?" Meryl said absently, not really having listened at all. Boy nodded and let out a trill 'tweet'. Meryl's mothered smiled.

"It's good to see you, Meryl," she said and embraced her daughter. "It's been so long."

"It's good to see you, too, mum," Meryl said. Her mother glanced down.

"Goodness, it's really come as a bit of a shock, though, sweet pea."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Darling, what do you think I mean? I mean…You never even told me you had a boyfriend, sweetie," she said then paused and watched Boy unsuccessfully try to nibble the diamond out of Meryl's ring. "Or should I say fiancé? Gosh, pigeon, is there anything else you haven't told me?"

Meryl grimaced at the upsetting jewelry and held back tears. She shrugged.

"To be honest, mum," she began. Although Meryl was never incredibly open with her mother, she was always sincere and straightforward. "I'm not quite sure if he is actually my fiancé."

"Why's that, darling, why's that?" her mother asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm afraid I don't entirely understand, pigeon."

"Neither do I, mum."

-

_Vash threw off the sheets and got out of bed. He just had to make sure… He tiptoed out of his room and through the dark kitchen, quietly as his fear would allow. He gently pressed against the door of _her_ bedroom and peeped inside. Good. She was fast asleep and absolutely perfectly fine. He pushed the door ajar and snuck inside, crouching beside her bed._

-

'_It's getting late_,' Meryl thought to herself as she leant on the windowsill against the lime ferns, chin cupped in her hands. The second sun had just swum down beneath horizon. '_I'm hungry._' She looked round at her room; Spartan and gray, as always. Meryl was about as undecided in her decorating tastes as her mother wasn't. '_What am I doing here?_' she sighed, subconsciously pining to be in Vash's presence. She glanced at her dresser. Neat. The mirror was a bit dusty. Meryl's eyes circled the whole room. She had this odd sense that something was missing. She had never particularly liked this room and the only thing that made it distinctly her own was him—"Hey! Where is he?" Meryl gasped. It suddenly struck Meryl that her plush was the missing item.

"Mum!" she cried. "Where is Mister Archibald?"

"Who, darling?" her mother called from the kitchen below, readying dinner.

"My TEDDY!" Meryl wailed.

"Oh, that!" her mother registered. "I put him in your closet. He was getting dusty, darling."

Meryl sprang up and flung open the closet door. There he was, smiling happily. Mister Archibald had been Meryl's favourite and only childhood toy. He was a polar teddy, as opposed to a normal polar bear, with big lovely green eyes, a funny grin and a nice big pointy nose. He was also very cuddly. He had been a gift from Meryl's father before her parents divorced, the reasons for which were particularly non-scandalous. During her childhood, and the greater part of her teenage years, Meryl's father was often away from home due to his work.As a result, moving house became a frequent event. This, mainly, and the fact that her father enormously detested Galahs was the cause of Meryl's parents' divorce. Meryl's mother just couldn't stand the constant separation and, as she put it, "Complete neglect of family! And if you don't like my pets, then stiff!" Meryl seized Mister Archibald and hugged him tight. It had been _so_ long since she hadheld her precious teddy. All of a sudden she felt a touch miserable. Meryl flopped back onto her bed and held her hand above her. She stared vigilantly at the silver band on her finger. Could it maybe be possible? Could Vash have perhaps slipped it onto her finger? Meryl sighed jadedly. What if he hadn't? But if he hadn't, then where in the world had it come from? She lay back against the pillows for a moment, and merely looked at her teddy's plastic eyes. She surveyed his silly smile and saw another apparition of Vash's grin. Meryl smiled ruefully back at her white bear and gave him another hug.

"Meryl, honey-drop, tea is ready," Meryl's mother announced from the threshold. Meryl looked up. What a horrid apron her mother was wearing. Pink with a pattern of little yellow bunnies and with downy white feathers at the hem.

"What is it?" Meryl asked, though she hadn't the slightest interest.

"Soup," her mother said. "Come on, darling. Before it gets cold. Come on. And leave your teddy here," she added as Meryl made for the door still clutching Mister Archibald's by his appendages.

"Oh…yes," Meryl mumbled and she set her teddy on the dresser.

-

_She's so lovely, Vash thought and gently brushed a few wisps of raven hair from her forehead. What a cute little girl she was. She looked so peaceful, just simply sleeping, an old teddy clasped tightly to her warm chest and the suggestion of a smile on her face. Vash beamed and planted a light, tender kiss on her cheek. He was glad she was safe. He thought himself silly for thinking that anything could have possibly happened to her. It was only a dream, after all._

-

"So sweetie," Meryl's mother began, taking a sip of her hot soup. "How long are you staying, darling?"

Meryl looked from her soup on the table in front of her to Gabby in her cage of vertical bars. She considered for a moment or two.

"Just tonight," Meryl said quietly, turning her gaze back on her untouched food.

"Oh, really?" said her mother. "What a shame. I would've expected you to stay at least two or three nights, darling," she went on. "I hadn't heard from you for nearly three years after all, sweetie."

"Sorry, mum," Meryl replied. The table in front of her began to blur.

"Sweetie, darling!" squawked Boy. Meryl sniveled.

"Oh, Meryl…" Her mother reached over the table and put her hand comfortingly on Meryl's, giving it a light squeeze. "Would you like to talk, dear?" she asked. Meryl gave a weedy nod, and wiped at her smarting eyes then shook her head.

"I understand," said Meryl's mother perceptively. "You just eat up, darling. You'll feel a little better if you eat something," she added, offering the breadbasket to her daughter. Meryl took a small piece of crust and dangled it in her soup.

"Now…" her mother said coolly. "Why don't you tell me about your fiancé?" She had probed Meryl's heartstrings. Meryl burst into tears, shielding her face with her hands.

"Oh, goodness!" said her mother, jumping out of her seat and rushing over to her daughter and flinging her arms around her. "Goodness, I'm so sorry, darling! I should have known, dear!" she said helplessly.

"No…" said Meryl shakily with a large sniff. "No, it's alright. I just…" she paused. "…haven't had a very good day." She clung to her mother's knitted jumper.

"I understand, darling," soothed her mother, petting Meryl's back.

"Thank you, mum," Meryl whimpered.

"Eat up, darling. Eat up."

"Yes…okay," Meryl agreed and retrieved her thoroughly soggy bun from her soup. Boy twittered.

"Mum?" Meryl sniffed as her mother took back her seat.

"Mm?"

"His name is Vash the Stampede," Meryl stated.

"What do you mean, darling?" her mother asked, presenting a thoroughly puzzled look.

"My fiancé's name is Vash the Stampede," Meryl repeated boldly, finally taking a bite of her bread.

"Vash the Stampede? Surely you don't mean the…?" her mother began worriedly. Meryl nodded, downing her food with a gulp of chilled water.

"That Visigoth?" her mother said, repugnance crossing her face. Meryl nodded.

"The sixty billion double dollar man," Meryl began with a strange bravado, "is not at all the way people think he is."

"Oh really?"

"He's very sweet, actually," she said. "And he's a klutz," she giggled dolefully, wiping her eyes. Her mother chuckled.

"Is that so, pigeon? Well if you say so, then I believe you," she said. "Besides, he must be respectable enough if you intend to marry him," she added.

"He is," Meryl murmured, an image of Vash grinning his ridiculous, goofy grin coming into her mind for the third time that day. She sniffled.

"And just think," her mother said, pushing her empty ramekin forward. "I'm going to be a grandmother in—how long until you're due, sweet pea?"

"A bit less than two months," Meryl replied.

"Gosh."

"Gosh, sweetie!" said Gabby cheerily, her ginger eyes glinting impishly. Meryl watched Boy preen her gray and pink plumage. Two months… Meryl felt a twinge begin to make itself known in her stomach. She took a sip of water, trying to ignore the pain. But it kept growing. Meryl wrapped her arms tightly around her middle, cringing and a tiny whimper expelling from her lips.

"Mu-um?" she moaned.

"Yes, darling? Oh, goodness!" her mother exclaimed, jumping up as Meryl fell out of her seat and curled up on the floorboards.

"Vash!"Meryl cried out, black surmounting over her as the pain became too excruciating for her to bear any longer.

-

_"Lavender…" Vash mouthed. __"I love you."_

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Thus! Waii. What will happen to Meryl! 

You got this far. Now be a sport. -points to review button- :3


	7. Confrontation

Author's burbling: Yes, Chapter Seven is at the end of this babble. But first the thankies. Inherently to reviewers. Bless you all. 'Specially you repeaters. You know who you are. And yes, Ten, here is your mention and dankies. Good job someone noticed. I hope everyone liked the Galahs and Mister Archies!

;here is the Disclaimer. It is standard.**_

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_**Chapter seven: Confrontation**_

"Fifteen."

_'I can…'_

"Hit me."

_'I can hear…'_

"Twenty one, darling."

_'Voices…'_

"OH YEAH! I AM SO GOOD AT THIS!"

Meryl stirred, a loud, raucous male voice pulling her roughly to consciousness. She blinked her eyes open. It was evening. Meryl found she was laying in a very comfy bed in what she assumed was a hospital wing.

"Honestly," she heard a second, more assertive, male voice speak from the end of the ward. "All your winnings have been nothing but dumb luck."

"I'll make you eat your words, Knives! Deal, Mrs. Stryfe!" Meryl propped herself up onto the cottony soft pillows behind her. She looked to where the voices were issuing from, her vision slightly blurred. It appeared that four people were sitting bent over at a coffee table.

"No, don't deal, Mrs. Stryfe. This bores me."

"Let's play mahjong!" chirped a giddy feminine voice. _'Milly?' _Meryl wondered.

"Mah-what?" blurted the first male. Meryl rubbed her fists into her eyes, clearing her vision. She focused and saw Vash, Milly, Knives and her mother all playing Blackjack.

"Mahjo—" Milly suddenly noticed Meryl's upright form. "Meryl! Oh good, you're awake!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with a warm smile. Vash pivoted in his chair and gazed at Meryl. Meryl was silent, her mouth slightly open, as Vash held her gaze in his.

"Oh, sweet pea, thank goodness you're awake!" cried Meryl's mother, getting up and sidling over to her daughter. She hugged Meryl tight. "I was so worried about you, peach tree!"

"Wha…what happened?" Meryl croaked through her mother's iron grasp.

"It was so scary, darling, so scary! You just sort of…keeled over, sweet pea!" her mother crooned. "I didn't know what else to do, so I got you to the hospital as soon as possible."

"And?" Meryl said.

"I thought the bubby wanted to get out! But everything was fine." Meryl frowned at her mother's verbal blatancy, blushing and trying not to look at Vash.

"I see," she mumbled, not wanting to press the subject and receive further embarrassment from her mother.

"How are you feeling, miss Meryl?" Knives inquired, an unreadable expression crossing his features. Meryl felt slightly cold as she found his eyes.

"Fine," she said quietly.

"You were out for a few days, actually, Meryl," said Milly, who was now seated beside Meryl's knees. Meryl looked up at her. What a warming sight she was, in Meryl's new world of stress and uncertainty. In the few days since their separation, Meryl had greatly missed her friend and the safety she felt in Milly's company.

"Was I?" Meryl gave Milly a gratified smile. Milly beamed back at her, perceiving what Meryl was feeling.

"You were." And they all sat in silence for a moment or two.

"Well, it's getting near teatime, everyone," Meryl's mother announced. "So, I think I'll just pop out the door and get some takeaway or something, sweeties."

"Oh, I'll come with you!" Milly offered.

"Thank you so much, darling." Milly glanced at Knives and Knives to Vash. Vash's eyes darted elsewhere, his lips sewn. Meryl scrutinized him from her place on her bed. Knives looked at Milly and read the look on her impish face.

"I shall come as well," he said jadedly. Vash looked nervously about him.

"Me too," he mumbled.

"Oh no, Mister Vash," Milly cried. "We can't just leave Meryl here all alone!" she pointed out. Obviously she had devilishly planned this beforehand.

"Well…" Vash paused, mulling over. "Well, why don't you stay?" he offered.

"Oh no! I want to go get some pudding!" Milly moaned. "And besides, me and Mister Knives volunteered first!" She gave him a grin with underlying wickedness. Vash cast hopelessly about before suppressing a sigh and murmuring a simple: "Okay."

"Good!" Meryl chipped, bouncing over to Knives, grabbing his wrist and sweeping him out into the hall. Meryl's mother followed, somewhat bemused by the others' antics.

"Oh," she said, poking her head back in the doorway. "Darling, is there anything I can get you?" she asked Meryl. "Anything you…er…need?" she added with a titter.

Meryl thought for a moment. Was there anything she craved? She looked absently at Vash, frozen tensely in his chair.

"Yes," said Meryl, glancing back at her mother. "Get me some donuts."

Vash's ears pricked up and he looked furtively at Meryl, his hands clasping eagerly over the wicker of his chair. Meryl furrowed her brow at him, conveying a threat that he wouldn't receive a single one.

Her mother nodded and smiled. "Okay, sweetie." She left. Meryl stared at Vash, feeling her left hand duck below the covers. Vash gulped and slowly rose from his chair.

"Uh…hi," he said feebly, raising a hand. Meryl gave him a strange nod in response. '_Why so reserved?'_ she wondered.

"Hi," Meryl said. "So…how long have you been here?" she asked. Something suddenly struck her with momentous force. "No. Uh…_what_ are you doing here?"

"Talking to you?" Vash paced forward.

"Well, of _course_ you're talking to me," Meryl expressed with odd hostility. No doubt she had missed Vash enough to give him a verbal punch. "What I mean is…Why are you here?"

"That's not a very nice way of putting it," Vash stated, taking a seat on the side of Meryl's bunk. "Well, after you left, I felt very…weird," he said.

"Weird? How so?"

"I couldn't shake this feeling that you weren't gonna be exactly safe," he said gently.

'_How perceptive_,' Meryl thought.

"So you came after me?" she asked. She received a nod. "But how did you find me?" she continued, a little perplexed.

"First, of course, I went to your insurance society," Vash said, shifting into a cross-legged position, his jeans constricting slightly around his knees.

"Oh dear," said Meryl with a dismal laugh. "I hope no-one recognized you." The sides of Vash's mouth twitched into an uneasy grin.

"Actually…some freaky colleagues of yours chased me halfway down the street," he said.

"Oh god," Meryl gloomed, smacking her forehead into her palm. Vash chuckled.

"So I figured that since I hadn't seen you drive out of Bernardelli, you would still be here."

'_Very perceptive_,' Meryl thought again, her pupils widening slightly. "That's the smartest thing I've ever heard you say," she exclaimed.

"Heeey!" Vash growled, folding his arms. "Anyway, to cut a long story short, I eventually found your mum's house and…" he hesitated, a sad look blighting his features.

"Yes?" Meryl coaxed.

"And there you were…just laying unconscious on the floor," Vash breathed.

"Oh," Meryl whispered. "…Sorry."

"You shouldn't be. It wasn't really your fault. Anyway, it was a good thing I got there in time. Your mum was panicking, I can tell you," Vash said. "Your mum's pretty cool, by the way," he added, laughing.

"She embarrasses me," Meryl said with a subsequent flush. "Anyway," she said in a stiff voice, the way people speak when they specify that they wish to move on to a less irritating topic. "How come Milly and…" she hesitated, feeling the trademark chill of Knives name. "…Mister Knives came too?"

"Ah. Well…I know you don't trust Knives and so I knew you wouldn't have liked him being alone with Milly. Neither would I, matter of fact."

'_Very, very perceptive.'_

There was a small silence. Vash leant forward and kissed Meryl's cheek, taking her hand up in his.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Vash whispered, keeping his face close to Meryl's. Meryl allowed herself a smile and instinctively gave Vash a wallop up the face.

"Yow! What was that for?" he bleated, springing back away from her.

"Why? Are you saying we're not close enough for me to be able to smack you without a reason?" Meryl asked, plastering a look of mock melancholy on her face.

"You're a naughty, little insurance girl!" Vash spat, returning sarcasm. "A 'spank' would be better." Meryl flushed.

"You're a big, horny idiot!" she screamed, the cynicism gone from her tone. She threw Vash a cremating look and a pillow. Vash caught the pillow and giggled stupidly, carefully tackling Meryl backwards onto the remaining pillow and kissing her firmly on the lips. Meryl went a shade funny of mahogany. She looked up into Vash's turquoise-y green eyes and gave back his kiss. '_Now!_' Meryl's mind growled. She would. She had to ask him. "Vash?" she whispered, clinging onto his soft neck.

"Yeah?" he murmured.

"You need to tell me something," Meryl said decisively. "You need to tell me about this." She held up her hand, demonstrating the silver ring with the scintillating diamond. Vash stared at it for a moment, no clear expression on his face. Meryl perused him and knotted her brow. "Well?" she prodded. Vash's gaze shifted.

"Well…" he began tensely. "Okay. I know what you're thinking. Yes…it was me."

"When?" Meryl posed.

"The night before you left."

"I see." Meryl paused for a moment, sighing. "You should have woken me!" she warned.

"I know…" Vash pulled up away from her, leaning back on his heels.

"Vash, why do you keep doing things behind my back?" Meryl sighed, propping herself back up onto the pillow.

"What things? I don't do things behind your back!" Vash retorted.

"Yes! You do!" Meryl snarled.

"No, I _don't_!"

"You _do_!"

"DON'T!" Vash yelled aberrantly. Meryl recoiled. Why was Vash being so damn defensive?

"S-sorry…" Vash mumbled.

"Right," Meryl said tersely. She crossed her arms. "Anyway, was this inside that box of 'stuff' that you were hiding from me?" she inquired, curtly shoving the ring in Vash's face again.

"Yes. No—I wasn't hiding anything!" Vash growled.

"You _were_, Vash!"

"I wasnnnnn't," he replied, resorting to whining.

"You were, darn you! And you've been hiding other things besides that!" Meryl's eyes began to ache.

"Like what?" Vash said hotly.

"Like you don't even tell me where you go when you leave the house! And when I ask you, you just change the subject!"

"So what? I don't tell Milly or Knives," Vash pointed out tetchily.

"That's got no relevance whatsoever!" Meryl hissed.

"Fine."

"And you never just 'talk' to me anymore."

"We never talked, anyway," Vash grumbled.

"Then tell me why," Meryl said faintly. Vash looked at her. "Tell me why you can't just talk to me now!" Vash threw his gaze to the floor.

"I just…can't, okay?" he muttered.

"Vash," Meryl whimpered.

"Not yet."

Meryl sighed. She suddenly felt very angry with Vash.

"Then why shouldn't I believe that you aren't being faithful to me?" she demanded.

"Because I love you!" Vash blurted with an almost pleading look.

"Then act like it!" Meryl bellowed, shooting Vash a livid expression. Vash was silent.

"Fine," Meryl continued.

"Fine," she repeated. "If you're not going to talk to me. Then I'm not going to talk you."

"Meryyyl," Vash groused.

"Get out," Meryl replied impertinently.

"But—"

"GET OUT NOW!" she shrieked furiously with a look of wrath that could petrify. Vash stared, his brows raised in alarm. He paused a moment or two, unable to act, then gently edged off the bed. He stared at Meryl's flaming eyes for a moment then sashayed quietly out into the hallway, without a backward glance. Meryl sighed, looking away out the window into the moonlit street. She sighed again, deeply. She curled up and hugged her knees. As she leaned her head on her knees, her plaid nightclothes began to moisten. She let out as tiny sobs as her sorrow would allow, tears streaming free down her cheeks, and she bothered not to wipe them away. Footsteps resonated against the walls as Meryl heard Vash exit the building and then she let out a great wail.

Meryl clapped her hands over her eyes and sobbed harder. Never had she cried so much in her whole life. She slouched back onto her pillow and hid her face, curling up sideways into a fetal position and snuggling back below the covers. Why did such stressful things have to happen to her all the time?

Eventually the tears subsided and she collected herself enough to try and forget her woes. She shut her eyes and attempted to sleep but instead found herself cogitating how strange it felt to be in a single bed. She had never realized how cold a solitary bed could be. She remembered how warm and cosy and snug she had felt just lying next to Vash. The thought made her cry again.

For the remainder of the night, it was beyond Meryl's powers of description how much she wanted her Mister Archibald.

* * *

I wonder...Was there something different about this chapter? 


	8. Polishing Pendants

Author's notes: Sorry for the delay! I can't believe it took me a whole four days to write this chapter! Shock-horror. I promise it won't happen again. -bows to reviewers- Thank you, mina!

;Standard disclaimer applies.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter eight: Polishing Pendants**_

Vash sighed, hauling himself down the sandy street, kicking dust and stones up as he went. The midmorning sunlight beat down on him, thought he felt no warmer. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and hung his head, cussing to himself.

'_Gah_,' he grumbled mentally, offering a rueful stare to the ground. '_Why does it have to be this way?_'

It was nice to be finally back in this quiet town, he conceded, but his home was no longer welcoming. Meryl had kept her word and alienated herself from Vash since they had returned a few days prior. She would on no accounts speak to Vash and at whatever time he entered a room she was occupying, she immediately left without another thought, leaving an awkward chill in her place. Vash found himself rather depressed by this. For the past few days, also, he had been subliminally made to sleep on the moth-eaten couch in the living room. This was because, on the first night after their return, Meryl had pretentiously sprawled herself across the length of their bed and refused to move, denoting that Vash was not welcome to share her covers with her again. She continued this façade for the following nights as well.

Vash inclined his head in one direction then another, trying to loosen the crick in his neck—The couch had been less and less therapeutic every night he slept on it. After a few twists he felt the pain begin to ebb away. He gave his neck one last gentle slant, but felt it spasm up worse than it had been. Vash cringed and growled. Failing to respite the pain in his neck, he began arching his back and lumber and throwing his shoulders. '_I think I'll sleep on the floor, tonight_,' he deduced, as he turned into a spacious mews. He stood for a moment, thoroughly annoyed at the paroxysms in his upper body and simultaneously tried to stretch them all back into place. Somewhat successful, Vash put his efforts to rest and pressed forward down the street to his usual destination. He slumped melodramatically, passing by the shops and stores without glancing, not even pausing at the Bakery window for his usual ogling of the sweets and pastry within.

He paced up the footpath and pressed on the screen door of the jewelry shop. The bell above the door tinkled melodically. The woman at the glass counter was, as usual, chewing a stick of gum and reading a magazine of some description, her sparkly horn-rimmed-glasses beginning to slide slyly down her nose. For a moment she didn't look up but then it socked her that her favorite employee hadn't greeted her, let alone greeted her in the way she was accustomed to: with a wave and a cheerful donut-packed grin.

"Good morning, Vash," she said with probing cheerfulness.

"Morning, Katrina," Vash replied, sweeping past the counter and behind the burgundy drape.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Katrina chipped.

"Eeh," Vash grumbled apathetically. Katrina detected a shrug. Vash emerged in his uniform; a trendy combination of a lilac business shirt, white slacks and white leather shoes with bulky heels, polished to the glossiness of Katrina's magazine cover. Vash leant forward onto the counter and cupped his cheeks in his palms. Katrina perused him over the top of her weekly with her brown eyes.

"What's up, Vash?" she inquired after some deliberation.

"Huh?" Vash mumbled, looking up at his employer.

"You're not your usual _effervescent_ self," Katrina said pointedly, cornering her page and setting the magazine on the counter. "Normally you'd come in ten minutes late, grinning like a hyena with a mouth full of donuts," she added. "Problems with Mertyl?" she asked perceptively.

"Her name is _Meryl_," Vash sighed involuntarily.

"Meryl. Yes. Whatever. What's the problem?"

For a moment or two, Vash was silent. "She thinks I'm cheating on her. She won't talk to me. She won't even _look_ at me!" he whined.

"Gee. Heavy," Katrina said. "Why does—could you shine up that locket over there? —why does she think that?"

Vash kept silence again, mulling over whether to accept tea and sympathy from his employer.

"Well…" he began cagily, stepping around the front of the counter. "Well, she doesn't know that I work here."

"Oh!" Katrina registered. "So she thinks you go out everyday to meet some trollop!"

"I wouldn't put it like _that_," Vash said tetchily, spraying Silvo on a little gold heart. "But that's probably it." Katrina nodded.

"Well if she thinks you're cheating on her, when really you're not, why not just explain it all to her and clear up all the misunderstandings?" Katrina ventured with a cow-like chew.

"I _can't_," Vash sighed. "Then she would know everything and I'd have nothing to surprise her with," he pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Katrina asked, brushing a few wisps of auburn hair from her face.

"You know," Vash said with the air of a ten-year-old keeping a secret. "I told you ages ago." Katrina looked intently up at the ceiling, thinking with the help of her gum.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed as it dawned on her. "I remember now." Vash gave an uncharacteristically solemn look at the glass case in front of him.

"And, oh, that's right!" Katrina added. "You bought that lovely ring for her." Vash inclined his head.

"Did you _ask_ her?" Katrina giggled. Vash shook his head. "Oh what a shame. So you still have it?" Vash gave another shake of his head. "What did you do with it, then?" Katrina gawped.

"It's on her finger," Vash said, placing the now dazzling heart on a small rise of velvet. Katrina smiled at the sparkle the tiny pendant gave off.

"So you did propose?" she inquired, looking back at Vash. Vash shook his head for a third time.

"Then what's the damn thing doing on her finger if you didn't propose?" asked Katrina, hotly.

"I put it on her finger while she was asleep," Vash replied. Katrina made a strangled noise somewhere between a whine and a sigh.

"Vash, Vash, Vash…" she began like a fretful mother. "If you're going to propose to her, at least do it properly! Take it from a woman who knows," she said professionally. "Women like things like that to be as romantic as possible! You can't just shove a ring on her finger—no matter how lovely it looks—and hope for the best."

"I see," Vash said absently, avoiding Katrina's gaze. "What should I do now, though?" he asked.

"Hmm." Katrina thought about this. "Well…" she started. A customer entered the shop. "Hold that thought," she said quickly to Vash. "Hello, how may I help you?" Katrina enquired politely as a middle-aged woman approached the counter.

"Umm…well…I'm looking for a pendant for my new baby girl," she said. Vash glanced sideways at the woman. She was very unkempt but had a certain prettiness about her. She had straggly, mouse-brown hair. There were bags under eyes and she wore creased tan overalls, but something about her face made her seem very striking. Vash continued shining up lockets.

"Oh, I see. Oh, congratulations!" Katrina hailed.

"Thank you. She's three weeks old."

"Oh she must be gorgeous!" Katrina said and began chatting away about the different pendants that there were to choose from. After much deliberation the woman chose the gold heart locket with the new sheen.

"That one," she said, pointing to it. "It looks lovely."

"Good choice," said Katrina. The woman paid for it and put it neatly in her purse.

"Thank you!" she said with a wave.

"Thank _you_," said Katrina, waving back. "Now, where were we?" she asked, turning back to Vash. Vash shrugged. Katrina took up her magazine again.

"Hey Vash…" she said after a few minutes of silence.

"Mm?" Vash mumbled, not looking up.

"Weren't you going to get a pendant or something for your own child?" she asked. Vash paused and then nodded.

"Yeah. I am," he said.

"That's why you came to work here, right?" Katrina affirmed.

"Yeah, that's right."

Katrina gave her periodical a flick as if it were a newspaper. "Well, have you decided which one you want?" she asked. Vash's eyes circled the room, gazing at the cases of fine jewelry.

"No," he said.

"Would you like help picking one out?" she asked. Vash polished the ornament of a necklace, thinking.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed.

"Alrighty!" Katrina said happily, jumping off her stool and flitting around to the case bearing the pendants, chains and necklaces. "Okay," she began. "I'm assuming Meryl's child is a little girl?" Vash stared.

"I have no idea," he said, gawping.

"Oh. Not born yet," Katrina discerned. "Right, well we'll just have to pick two out, then, won't we?" She and Vash debated over the different curios, picking out ones they liked and slowly narrowing the choices down. In a matter of time, they were left with two different makes. Vash glanced at the prices. His heart sunk into his stomach.

"I can't afford either of these," he said. Katrina dissected Vash's woeful expression and smiled.

"Vash," she said. "I'm glad I hired you. You're a good, hard worker and you've been a real asset to me. You're also a good friend. So," she continued, "as a token of my gratitude, I will keep these behind the counter until you need whichever one. And when the time comes, you can have it for free."

Vash gawked, stunned, silently opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

"But—" he protested. Katrina shook her hand at him.

"No, no," she said. "My mind is made up." She grinned at him. "You earned it," she added. Vash felt himself smile.

"Thanks," he said warmly.

"No problem," Katrina replied. "Now get back to work!" she shouted, producing an arbitrary whip. "AHAHA!"

-

Knives smiled jubilantly to himself, pouring over his creation in the making. He sat alone, cross-legged on the floor in the dark cellar, fiddling with the instruments before him. He experimented with the insertion of a small metal nut. It clicked neatly into place and Knives smiled again. It was progressing faster than he expected and his heart quivered with malevolent joy at the thought that it would soon be ready. It would take him another year or so—he couldn't be suspicious—but it would be worth it. He could wait. He had all the time in the world to complete his _tour de force_. It would not matter when he finished it. All that mattered was that it would be ready for her… Knives smirked again.

-

Vash studied the door before him. He glanced warily over his shoulder at the empty street behind him multiple times, as if he were thief about to foray a residence. Theft of his own home would be a wasted effort, however. He inhaled deeply and pressed his ear against the oak. Nothing. There was neither movement nor voices to be heard beyond the door.

'_Good_,' Vash though to himself. _'They've all gone to bed, obviously.'_ He gently slid the door open and snuck inside. He gulped, scanning the hall. Coast clear, he cloaked himself in the shadows and slithered into the kitchen where donuts waited to reward Vash for his hard day of work and skillfully avoiding the fiery eyed goblin.

"You're home late," stated a familiar voice from the dinner table. Vash froze in mid-pounce for the cupboard. He wavered on one leg, gulped and sunk to the floor.

"I am home late," Vash agreed to the invisible Meryl.

"I know," Meryl said, her tone very firm.

"You're talking to me," Vash stated timidly.

"I know," Meryl repeated. "The question is…are you going to talk to me?" she suggested.

"I dunno," Vash said, slightly confused. "We are talking, aren't we?"

"You know what I mean!" Meryl growled and Vash heard the sound of a chair shifting.

"Okay, okay!" he eased.

"Listen, Vash," Meryl began, her voice softening, "I'm sorry…I guess…For being all cold to you." Vash was surprised.

"My fault entirely," he said, eager for the barriers between himself and Meryl to crumble some more.

"At last we finally agree on something!" Meryl sighed. A smile made itself known on Vash's face. "But…" Meryl continued, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Mm?"

"Vash, you have to tell me what you're hi—" Meryl abruptly stopped, mid-sentence. A noise that would accompany a cringe expelled from her lips.

"Meryl?" Vash swiftly made to her side. Through the darkness he could see Meryl's face contorting in pain and shock. She had tightly clasped her hands around her middle and was now hunching over.

"Ooooooh…Christ!" she groaned.

"Meryl, what's wrong?" Vash yipped helplessly.

"My waters have just broken!" Meryl shrieked.

* * *

Teatime is the British equivalent of Dinner. o-o Happy now? XD 

... Oh! Right! -points down- :3


	9. Girls

Author's rambles: This chapter is for Wolferz, who was so eager to read Chapter eight, she watched me write it. XD By the way, if anyone wants to see a piccie of Lavender and Airies, email me. Wolferz screamed so I sketched. I would post it somewhere, but I cannot be bothered. :3

Disclaimer(Yes, this is a real disclaimer.): I do not own Trigun. Period. But I _do_ own Lavz and Airz. :0

* * *

_**Chapter nine: Girls**_

Meryl sighed deeply, exhausted and sore, mixed emotions and questions coursing through her. _'Where the hell is Vash at time like this?'_ she wondered dejectedly. Partially curled up in a hospital bed, yet again, Meryl was perceiving how completely different this morning from yesterday morning. She laid a hand over her stomach and underwent a strange sensation. After the events of last night, it felt as though she had lost half her bodyweight. But despite lingering pain, Meryl smiled broadly and experienced pride at the realization that she was now a mother. The thought elated her and she felt her eyes begin to water.

"I just can't believe it, Meryl!" Milly exclaimed, appearing at the entrance to the ward. Her own eyes were glistening.

"Twins! I can't believe it!" she reiterated. Meryl looked up at her and beamed. Milly sniffed then scurried over to Meryl and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Meryl!" she squealed. Meryl gave strangled titter and patted her friend on the back. Milly sniveled before giving Meryl a very atypical grin.

"I'm an auntie!" she laughed. Meryl snorted weakly.

"Umm…Milly…you're not my sister," she pointed out. Milly gave her a defiant stare.

"I'm close enough," she growled then giggled. Meryl chuckled with her.

"Augh…Where is Vash?" Meryl sighed to herself.

"Don't worry, Meryl! I'm sure he'll be here soon," Milly soothed, sitting herself down next to her friend. She smoothed out the thighs of her trousers and smiled.

"Gee, Meryl, I'm so happy for you!" she squeaked. Meryl's cheeks glowed.

"Thank you, Milly," she said, shifting carefully into a sitting position.

"How are you feeling?" Milly asked thoughtfully.

"Dreadful," Meryl said. "Hard work, you know." Milly blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed that she had no inkling as to how hard it actually was for Meryl.

"Umm…" she began slightly uncomfortably. "I-is there anything I can get you, Meryl? Are you hungry?" she chirped.

"Oh, no," Meryl groaned with consternation. "No. I really don't think I'd be able to eat even if I was hungry."

"Oh, well, let me know if you do want something later on."

"I will."

There was a small silence before either of them spoke again. It was a somewhat awkward situation Milly had been put in. She knew absolutely nothing about the effects childbirth; only that it hurt. It really hurt. It hurt even for Milly as Meryl had been squeezing her hand to the point of discoloring. When color did return, it happened to be a nasty shade of purple. Milly brushed her fingers over the swelling of her other hand and a funny expression crept up her face.

"So…uh…have you thought of names?" she asked finally.

"What?" Meryl mumbled. Her eyes were now shut and her head fallen against the giant pillow behind her.

"Have you thought of names for your children?" Milly repeated. Meryl stirred and opened her eyes.

"Well…" she gazed at Milly. "Well, no, actually. I never really gave it a thought." She quickly decided not to say: _'I guess I was focusing on Vash too much to think about it.'_

"But," she added as Milly gave her an oddly sad visage. "I think…Yes, I always really liked the name Airies," she said. "It's a bit weird, I know. But I like it." Meryl flushed.

"I don't think it's weird at all! I think it's sweet!" Milly cheeped. A broad smile appeared on Meryl's face but slunk away the moment she and Milly heard familiar footsteps coming down the hallway. Vash materialized at the threshold, his face screwed up as if he was steeling himself not to burst out and cry. Meryl frowned as he strode stiffly over to her. A long hush fell on the room before Vash broke it with an uncontrollable wave of blubbering.

"Meryyyyyyyl!" he bleated, flinging his arms around her. Meryl blushed.

"Get off me, you!" Meryl growled but accompanied it with a snigger.

"I'm sorry," Vash said, sniveling and mopping the sides of his eyes with his sleeve. Meryl gazed into his optics and felt all previous anger and thoughts of malcontent towards him wash away.

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "Now tell me where you've been!" she groused, a small ghost of annoyance returning. "Or I will envision hitting you, since I don't have the strength to _actually_ hit you." Vash stifled a laugh before rooting around in his pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box and retrieved from it a silver chain with an ornate locket. He gulped and handed it gently to Meryl. She gawped at it.

"Vash…?" she posed.

"For her. For our daughter," he verified. Meryl smiled and ran her fingers over the etch-work of the pendant. It reminded her of that on her ring.

"It's beautiful," she said. "But, I'm afraid…" she trailed off. Vash cocked his head to the side a little.

"Hm?"

"I'm afraid you're a father of twins," Meryl announced. Vash's mouth dropped open and came in danger of hitting the floor. Milly giggled.

"You're kidding?" Vash said weakly, staring at Meryl in utter disbelief. Meryl smirked at him as he began to resemble a gawping goldfish. She shook her head at him and leaned closer. Sniggering, she pinched Vash's nose, flicked his mouth shut and gave him a light kiss. Vash made no response and continued to stare, a thousand thoughts struggling against one another at the doorway to conscious thought.

"Be happy," Meryl said after her little sequence of actions. Emotion finally crossed Vash's face.

"Oh Meryl!" he whimpered, throwing his arms tightly around her again. "I _am_ happy! I'm _so_ happy! God, I'm so happy I think I'm gonna cry!" he added.

"You _are_ crying, you dolt!" Meryl exclaimed with a laugh. Milly beamed at the two, subliminally drawing little hearts in the air around them.

"I'm so glad you two worked everything out!" she said happily. Meryl gave Milly a nod and an awkward smile. Vash seemed not to have heard her and continued bawling in between asphyxiated mutterings of how happy he was.

"Congratulations, Miss Meryl," said Knives' simpering voice from the doorway. Meryl jumped slightly as she had not heard him pad down the corridor to the maternity ward. Vash released Meryl and turned to Knives.

"Th-thank you," said Meryl shyly. Vash grinned at his sibling and held up his own trademark peace sign.

"Twins!" he said.

"Is that a fact?" Knives replied, his attention sparked. A delicious thought struck him. "Well, isn't that wonderful!"

"It is!" Vash exclaimed, barely controlling his glee. Meryl stared fixedly at Knives. Something was off about the way he had said 'wonderful.' It was, to Meryl, almost as if he had meant it but in a completely different way. Before she could pursue this train of thought, Milly grasped Meryl's hand and smiled warmly at her.

"Meryl, would you like to go and see them?" she asked as though trying to convince her. Meryl paused, suddenly apprehending that she had not actually glimpsed her children.

"Yes, I think I would," she replied.

"Me too!" Vash chirruped and grinned. Knives shrugged and offered a small smile as if to say he would tag along. Meryl dangled her feet over the edge of her bed and got slowly to her feet. Vash put his arm around her to steady her slightly and they made their way into the lobby. Milly and Knives followed, exchanging smiles of different emotions. Vash clasped Meryl's hand and beamed down at her as they passed the different wards.

"Here we are," said Milly as they came upon a tiny ward with broad look-in-windows. She and Meryl stepped forward and pressed their hands up against the cool glass. Meryl scanned the few inhabitants of the ward until her eyes came to two domed cribs, side by side, and bearing two tiny children. Her heart jumped and her cheeks began to blaze.

"Oh my goodness, look at them," she breathed. She felt Vash's arm coil around her again as he advanced to survey also. "They're beautiful," Meryl said. "Two beautiful little girls." Knives felt his thoughts snap. _'Girls?'_ he gasped mentally. '_GIRLS?'_

"They are," Vash whispered, pulling Meryl closer to him. Knives let a silent curse escape his lips and gnashed his teeth, a flash of fury and malice meeting his icy optics. _'No…'_ He glowered at his new nieces from behind his brother's back. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he angered. He heard himself snarling and promptly stopped as Vash turned his head. Knives plastered a convincingly warm smile on his face. Vash perused him for a moment then smiled back. Knives inclined his head and began to hurry away. He had to get away before he lost control of himself and did something rash.

"Knives? Where are you going?" Vash asked.

"I'm…" Knives paused, desperately thinking up an alibi. "I'm just going to get something to drink." Lame, he conceded, but believable. Vash watched Knives scoot away down the hall and could not help sensing something strange. He shrugged it off and turned back to Meryl. Milly examined the content look and Meryl's face made to follow Knives.

"I'm a little peckish," she stated. "I'll see you two later, okay?" She waved and strode happily down the hall after Knives, wondering what kind of pudding she might find at the hospital cafeteria. Meryl waved after her.

"Always hungry…" she mumbled. Vash chuckled.

"I'm sure we both know what she's really thinking," he said. Meryl smirked and leaned back against her lover's chest.

"Sometimes it worries me how smart Milly actually is," she replied.

"You too?" They both laughed. Meryl sighed contentedly and clung to Vash's arm, her eyes beginning to glisten. Vash cuddled her and ran his fingers though her hair.

"You kinda scared me last night," he said. "I mean…A month early."

"Yeah…It was a little shocking for me, too," said Meryl. "But, oh Vash, just look at them!" she cried. Vash smiled and held Meryl more closely.

"They're really beautiful," Meryl repeated. "And they're so different for twins," she added, observing the differences in the colour of their eyes and hair.

"Mm," Vash murmured in response, continuing to beam at his children.

"What do you think of the name Airies?" Meryl asked. Vash looked down at her with warm eyes.

"I think it's a beautiful name," he replied.

"For her," Meryl said, pointing to the older, blonde, of the two. Vash nodded.

"What shall her name be?" he asked, gesturing to the other.

"You decide," said Meryl, snuggling up to Vash. He gazed intently at his daughter, names streaming through his mind. None of them seemed to suit her. Vash turned his eyes on Meryl's soft features, and then it came to him.

"…Lavender," Vash said finally. "The colour of your eyes." Meryl smiled up at him and embraced him.

"Lovely," she whispered. "That's a lovely name." All resentment was gone. All ill feelings had faded. There were no longer reservations. Doubt had no place for consideration. Meryl leant closer. Vash kissed her deeply and she knew there would be no more lies. Meryl could not have had greater faith in the man standing before her.

"Vash…" she spoke quietly.

"Mm?"

Meryl took up Vash's soft hands and entwined her fingers through his. They both glanced down at the silver ring on Meryl's left hand.

"I accept," she said and they exchanged another long kiss.

Knives clenched his fists as he hurried down the stairs. He was barely containing his anger. _'It's all wrong!' _he bayed mentally. _'They weren't supposed to be _girls_!'_

He stomped through the hospital with great alacrity and cursed at the insight that his plans were in tatters.

"DAMNATIONS!" he shouted, striking the nearest drywall hard with the butt of his fist. "Ow," Knives snarled, pulling back his hand and seeing a few bloodied fragments of plaster crumble away to the floor. He turned and slumped back against the wall, continuing to curse under his breath. _'Why must things continue to defy me!'_ Knives hissed in thought. He clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles beginning to pale. His scheme was ruined and it was entirely his brother's fault! He could have screamed until his throat became raw. Then he paused for moment, contemplating. All of a sudden his eyes took on a sadistic, rancorous glee and he cupped his chin between his thumb and index. _'Perhaps,'_ he thought, _'I could make this situation work to my advantage.'_

"Mister Knives?"

Knives flinched and quickly adhered a soothing smile as he turned to face Milly.

"Are you alright, mister Knives?" Milly asked. "I heard you shout."

"I'm fine now," Knives replied pleasantly. "I tripped and fell down the stairs, is all."

"Oh, I see. Well would you like to come and get some pudding with me? I feel like celebrating, don't you?" Milly asked cheerfully.

"Oh yes," said Knives. "_Definitely_."

* * *

La la, you know what to do. :3 


	10. First and Last Words

Author's prattles: This chapter is for my ever faithful Ryu. And Ten. And Wolferz. And Izzy. And perhaps Razzi. XD I love you all! And, of course, you lovely reviewers. :3

;Standard disclaimer applies.

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**_Chapter ten: First and Last Words_**

The first of the twin suns swam above the scope of the desert and cast an ambry glow through the winter morning mist into Knives' bedroom. The moment the rays hit his eyelids, they shot open with silent malice. He shook the remains of sleep away and sat upright on his bed, gazing out of the window. '_Today_,' he thought, recalling that after many long months, he had finally completed his masterpiece the previous night. An icy smile crept up his face. '_Today!_' he thought again with glee.

He glanced at the analog clock on his bedside table and knew that the other occupants of the house would still be asleep. He agilely threw off the bedcovers and donned his slippers. Creeping mutely out onto the landing, he threw his gaze across both ways of the hall and listened intently to make doubly sure he would not be heard. He snuck across the hall in the likeness of a cat and proceeded carefully down the stairs. Chary that the last step creaked, he jumped quietly over it and turned left into the second staircase that led down to the cellar. He flicked a small switch at the foot of the steps and fluorescent light poured into the dank basement. He smiled and slunk across the room to a grimy bench bearing unused screws and bolts, rusted pieces of metal from whence the origin was now unfathomable and a few oily rags concealing something beneath them. Knives pinched up the rags and primly threw them away, revealing his shiny new creation. He snatched it up with theatrical flourish and grasped it tightly, savoring the coolness of the black metal. Taking it in his other hand, he ran one finger across the horizontal wire and smiled, feeling a small trickle of blood run down his index.

"Perfect," he whispered. It was ready and today Knives would dispense something great upon his brother. His minute smile broadened into a leer and he could almost see the emotion pouring over Vash's face. Knives folded back the collapsible modules of his creation and concealed it behind the front of his dressing gown. Quietly as possible, he crept back up the cellar stairs and ensured no one was yet up. He heard footsteps and quickly ducked into the shadows. Vash plodded sleepily past the cellar doorway and yawned. Knives prayed that Vash would be too languid to notice him. Vash stretched sleep out of his arms and back but traipsed away into the kitchen. Knives stepped out into the hall and smirked at his brother's back. In that moment, it would have been so easy to give Vash what he truly deserved. But for Knives it would have been neither discreet nor satisfying. No, Vash would receive what he, in Knives' eyes, justly deserved.

Knives gave his brother another happily cruel look then skulked noiselessly back up the stairs and into his bedroom. He shut the door quietly behind him and hastily hid his masterpiece in the confines of his pillowcase. Being one for cleanliness, Knives made his bed before emerging again from his room. He yawned as if he had just woken and made again down the stairs with a fake trudge, stretching his arms as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Knives," said Vash. He was standing at the kitchen bench pouring tea.

"Indeed," replied Knives, taking a seat at the table.

"Huh?" Vash mumbled.

'_Idiot,_' Knives thought.

"Good morning, Vash," he verified edgily.

"Uh-huuuh…" Vash registered.

"Sorry," said Knives pithily.

"No prob.' Earl Grey?" Vash offered, tempting Knives with a tea bag.

"No, thank you."

Vash sat down at the table opposite Knives, clasping his favourite mug. It was big and cute with a black and white cow capering on its hind legs in a field of daisies. Knives hated it. It was _too_ cutesy. It made him want to vomit in disgust then shoot something and then vomit in disgust again.

"How can you like that thing?" he asked tersely.

"What thing?" yawned Vash.

"That…thing…on the cup." He pointed at the mug. "It looks like a Thomas reject."

"For your big fat information, is it called a _cow,_" Vash said blatantly.

"I know what it is," Knives retorted with a hiss.

"And I like it because Milly bought it for me." Vash sipped sanctimoniously at his tea.

"It's sickening," said Knives.

"Well, then you won't mind if I have yours," Vash replied curtly, pointing to a coffee mug of the same design but bearing a black cat and a ball of yarn instead of a cow.

"No!" Knives snapped.

"Oh, thank you."

"No, I mean, no you _can't_ have it!"

"What? But you said you didn't like it!" Vash bleated.

"I said I didn't like that thing!" hollered Knives, jabbing his finger at the cow.

"But you never use yours, anyway," Vash countered.

"Keep it down!" Meryl growled from the doorway. Vash and Knives looked up diffidently. Meryl gave them a small glare.

"Shush," she cooed, patting the small girl in her arms.

"Sorry," Vash and Knives whispered.

"It's fine," said Meryl. "Good morning, anyway." Vash beamed up at her.

"Would you like some _tea_?" he asked with uncharacteristic cuteness and emphasis, giving his mug a playful shake. Meryl chuckled a little.

"No, I'll get myself some breakfast. Here, hold Airies, will you?" Meryl carefully lifted Airies into Vash's arms and strode over to the refrigerator.

"Whoa, she's heavy now!" said Vash, cuddling his eldest daughter. Knives surveyed, thinking animatedly to himself.

"I know. Lavender, too," Meryl replied as she poured milk on a bowl of cornflakes. "She almost spoke last night." Vash's eyes flashed to Meryl.

"But they're only eight months old!" he exclaimed. Airies gave a giggle.

"I'm sure it's totally natural that they're developing a little fast," Knives interjected. Both he and Meryl were giving Vash an 'it-should-be-obvious' kind of expression.

"You were speaking when you were three months old, if I remember correctly," said Knives. Vash turned his eyes to the ceiling and scratched the back of his neck, flushing.

"Anyway, when is your mum getting here, Meryl?" Vash asked. Knives rolled his eyes.

"About eleven. When are you going to work?" Meryl sat down next to Vash, setting her bowl of cereal on the table and grabbing the sugar pot.

"About then," said Vash. Meryl shook her head slightly.

"It's a shame," she said dejectedly.

"I know."

"That I can't come with you, I mean," Meryl specified. Vash snorted slightly and Airies copied him. Knives smirked.

"Your mother is quite the interesting one, I must say," he said.

"Oh yes, very interesting," Meryl replied, not being able to help laugh through her cornflakes. Though she would not admit it if confronted, Meryl had come to trust Knives a little more than she did several months ago. She felt easier around him than she ever thought she would and didn't hesitate to speak freely in front of him. "If you find gossip interesting," she said. Vash and Knives chuckled.

"Good morning, everyone!" chimed Milly as she entered the kitchen in her yellow pajamas.

"Morning, Milly," Vash, Meryl and Knives replied in unison.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Meryl.

"Pretty well," said Milly. "Huwwo, Aiwies!" she coddled to Airies, tickling her chin. Airies gave a noise that was a cross between a hiccup and a laugh. Vash and Meryl exchanged smiles.

"Oh, she's so cute!" Milly exclaimed. "Can I hold her?"

"Sure," said Vash. Milly cautiously took Airies from him and sat down beside Knives, putting Airies on her lap.

"She's grown!" Milly said.

"As we were just saying," Knives pointed out. Milly 'koochy-koo-ed' to Airies and attempted to compel her to speak. Meryl and Vash watched intently.

"Can you say 'Daddy,' Airies?" Milly coaxed, gently waving Airies' hand to Vash. "Can you say 'Vashie'?" Airies looked Vash up and down with her aqua eyes, a befuddled look on her tiny face.

"Da…" she began. Everyone's ears pricked up and they all stared at her, waiting with baited breath for the next syllable. Vash leant forward.

"…shie." Airies giggled and crawled off Milly's lap onto the table. She crept on all fours across the wooden surface until she came to Vash. "Da-shie," she repeated and grabbed a hold of her father's angular nose, pinching it lightly and chuckling.

"She's smart!" said Vash in the tone that someone uses when their nose is being restrained. "Her first word!"

"Wow," said Meryl quietly, staring fixedly at her daughter. Her cornflakes were going soggy. "I can't believe it," she said. Knives was gawking just as absorbedly as Meryl. Suddenly there was a rap at the door.

"Hello!" called the whiny voice of Meryl's mother. "I'm early, darlings!" Milly went out into the hall and welcomed her in.

"Hello, Mrs. Stryfe. How are you?" she asked cheerily.

"Fine, darling. Just fine! Hello, Meryl dear," Meryl's mother said as she entered the kitchen, her heels clacking on the tiles. She gasped at Airies. "Oh goodness, isn't she adorable!"

"Hi, mum," said Meryl, giving her mother a small wave. "This is Airies. She's just spoken her first word."

"Oh, Meryl, sweetie, she's a darling!" her mother exclaimed. Airies released Vash's nose and clapped, giggling sweetly and repeating her non-word.

"Oh, can I hold her, darling?" simpered Meryl's mother. Meryl nodded and gently passed Airies to her. Meryl's mother beamed and cuddled her new granddaughter.

"She really is just gorgeous!"

Vash muted a chuckle and rubbed his nose.

"Oh, hello, Vash, darling! Sorry. I didn't notice you there, hiding behind Knives."

"No worries, ma'," Vash said with a smile.

"So mum, how long are you staying?" Meryl asked, offering a chair to her mother. She sat down and put Airies on her lap.

"Oh not very long at all, sweetie. Actually I can't stay for more than a few minutes," she replied.

"Really? Why not?"

"Must get back to Gabby and Boy, darling. They were in a right state this morning!"

"Oh, I see," said Meryl, her heart dancing.

"But I brought something for you," announced her mother, reaching one-handed into her bag and pulling out Meryl's polar teddy.

"Mister Archibald!" Meryl exclaimed, snatching her plush and cuddling it tightly. Vash and Knives stared at Meryl and then exchanged funny glances.

"Thank you, mum," Meryl sniffed.

"No problem, sweetie," beamed her mother. "Now, I must be off. I'm _so_ sorry I couldn't stay long." She gave Airies back to Meryl and stood up, clasping her satchel. "It was lovely to see you all, even if for just a short time. I must say I'm so proud to have such a beautiful granddaughter! Well, cheerio." She made for the door with a wave.

"Wait, mum!" Meryl called as her mother set a foot on the porch. "Would you like to see Lavender?" she asked.

"Lavender?"

"Airies' sister," said Meryl. "They're twins."

"Goodness, darling!" cried her mother. "You should have said!" Meryl got up and ushered her mother into the twins' bedroom, Milly following. Knives turned to Vash, having ignored Meryl's mother completely since she arrived.

"So when is it you're going to work?" he asked a little nervously. Vash pivoted in his seat and glimpsed at the clock on the wall behind him.

"In about ten minutes," Vash replied. He took another sip of his tea. "Why?" The side of Knives' mouth twitched involuntarily.

"Just wondering," he said with unwanted stiffness. '_Not long now_,' he thought, a mixture of slight anxiety and glee cavorting about him. When Vash left the house, he would have his chance. _'All I need is to get her alone!' _Knives deliberated over his plan and how he would go about it. The possibilities were limitless and each just as beautifully sadistic as the next.

"Bye now, darlings! Love you, Meryl, sweetie!" bid Meryl's mother as she set out of the door. Knives jerked out of his trance and waved along with Vash and Milly.

"It was nice to see you, mum!" Meryl called from the porch. "Bye." Her mother waved as she strode up the street and out of sight. Meryl went back into the kitchen and retook her place next to Vash; Airies and Mister Archibald still at home in her arms. Vash quaffed the rest of his tea and stood up.

"I must be going now, too," he said as he put his mug in the sink. He whipped upstairs and slipped on his uniform.

"I'll see you all later," he said, entering the kitchen again and placing a quick peck on Meryl's cheek. "See ya!" Meryl blushed slightly and waved him out the door. Airies suddenly gave an attention-demanding noise. Meryl looked at her and tickled her chin. Airies giggled and clapped, a grin on her face. '_That reminds me_,' Meryl thought. She looked up at Milly.

"Milly, I just remembered I have to go out for a little while, too," she said. "To get a few things from the corner store for Airies and Lavender." Knives froze. _'This is it!'_

"Okay, Meryl," Milly replied with her standard happy tone. "Would you like me to come with you?" she asked.

"I'll go!" said Knives hastily. Meryl looked at him with some wariness.

"I need to get out of the house for a little while," Knives verified. "Stretch my legs, you know?" he probed lamely.

"I see," said Meryl. The doubt left her. "Well, I'll get dressed and then we'll go."

Knives nodded and swiftly exited the kitchen, proceeding up the stairs and into his room. He dressed promptly and rooted through his wardrobe for a large overcoat. He found and put on his least suspicious trench coat then made to the side of his bed. He knelt down beside it and slid his hand into the pillowcase. The coldness of metal tickled Knives' fingertips and he admired the smoothness of his creation as he retrieved it from the fabric. He gazed at it for a time, studying its every line and element. Smirking and feeling a wave of wicked euphoria engulf him, he slipped the invention into the inner pocket of his coat.

"Take care of the house, Milly," Meryl instructed as she and Knives set out the front door.

"I will," Milly called from within. Meryl sighed contentedly and cuddled Airies to her as they paced gradually up the street. Meryl found it strange that Knives had insisted she bring Airies with them. But then again, small outing would be good for Airies in one way or another, Meryl conceded. The sunshine beat pleasantly down on the three of them and they walked a little more briskly. Knives hung a little behind Meryl, enjoying the feel of power that emitted from his coat pocket. Now was the time, he supposed and quickly caught up to Meryl. He peeked left and right to make sure there were few people around to witness what he was about to do.

"Miss Meryl," Knives began politely, barely concealing a malicious smile.

"Mm?" Meryl mumbled inattentively. She was staring off into the cloudless sky.

"May I hold Airies for you?" Knives requested. Meryl looked at him and gave him a small smile; the first real smile she had ever given Vash's brother. It would be the last.

"Sure," said Meryl. Knives took Airies from Meryl and grinned back. Meryl continued for a few paces then turned round. Knives had stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Meryl asked solicitously. Knives finally showed his ill smile to Meryl. He slowly shook his head and reached into coat pocket. Meryl sensed danger and took a timid step backwards. Panic began to chill her blood. All of a sudden, a great pang of fear for her daughter struck Meryl hard in the chest and she dashed forward. Knives produced the object in his pocket with inhuman speed and pointed it directly at Meryl, giving her a fierce, callous look. Meryl halted in shock, finding her forehead to be scarcely touching the end of a long, black handgun with elements of it shaped in the fashion of a crossbow. Light began to emanate from within the gun itself and Meryl watched hopelessly as Knives' arm began to alter and grow.

"Any last words, human?" Knives said sadistically. Meryl vaguely heard Airies begin to cry in fright and felt her own eyes brimming.

"Airies," she whispered inaudibly as though her vocal cords were freezing over. "Vash! Help!"

* * *

-gaspinations- :0 


	11. Agony

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay, everyone. Yes, I broke my promise. But, as always, I thank the reviewers and announce that this chapter is 'specially for Ruru-chan. :3

;Stardard dsiclaimer applies.

_**

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_**Chapter eleven: Agony**_

Katrina giggled and thrust her gemmy glasses up her nose. She rose from her stool and frolicked over to Vash, the flares of her thigh-hugging jeans swaying madly. Resting her elbow on Vash's shoulder, she leaned against him. There was an evilly fascinated grin on her face. Vash shifted uneasily.

"Come ooooon," he griped. "Do we _have_ to talk about it?" Katrina made a huff and gave Vash an expression of scathing plea.

"Oh, go on, Vash!" she coaxed. "I'm ever so jealous!" She pouted and began clawing at his sleeve with her pink nails. "Tell Kitty-Kat!"

Vash whined helplessly and made a vain attempt to scurry away, only to be tackled over.

"Let go of meeeeee!" he hissed with less force than intended.

"No way!" Katrina persisted. "Not until you tell me everything!" she said with a maniacal laugh. Vash sighed, crawling away into a corner and curling up in it. Katrina shambled over on her knees, a vivacious grin still occupying her mouth. Her large earrings bobbled as she leant forward and intruded on Vash's personal space. The smirk on her face intensified as Katrina's eyebrows furrowed and she stared even more keenly into Vash's hesitant eyes.

"Don't be so silly, Vash," she said reprovingly. "Now, come on, just spill. When is the wedding?" Vash rubbed fretfully at the back of his neck. Why he was getting so flustered over conversing with Katrina about his relationship with Meryl, he did not know. Vash sighed resignedly.

"Next month," he said.

"Ooh!" Katrina wowed. "You going to invite me?" she puckishly suggested.

"If you get out of my face," Vash said blatantly. "Maybe." Katrina yielded and shifted backwards, allowing Vash to stand up. Vash huffed weakly and brushed himself off while Katrina ambled back to her stool behind the counter.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me she accepted your proposal before now!" she grumbled, smoothing her hair behind her ears.

"Hey! If I know I'm gonna get tackled, what do you expect?" Vash snapped wryly, returning to his own post. Katrina's eyes wavered to the ceiling and she let out a little embarrassed laugh.

"So is it going to be a big ceremony?" she asked, knitting her fingers and resting her chin on them. Vash looked at Katrina's engrossed face and shook his head.

"But it's going to be real nice, ain't it?" she perceived, a warm smile spreading across her mouth. A small tightening made itself known in Vash's chest. The tendrils of nuptial fear had just struck him for the first time. With difficulty, he gulped back the unease and nodded. Katrina registered the sudden trepidation and put a consoling arm around Vash.

"Don't worry, Vash. I'm sure it will be," she soothed, smiling even more warmly. Vash returned the smile gratefully. Then a thought struck him.

"What if something happens?" he posed quietly, looking with melancholy eyes to the glass below his elbows.

"Now Vash," Katrina began with a motherly air, shaking her finger at him. "What could happen?" She smiled again. At this, Vash brightened up considerably and the fear left him. He was glad to have his employer's confidence.

"Thanks, Katrina," he said, making a sub-conscious decision to think positive from then on. "I guess I wouldn't want to jinx it, now, huh?"

-

Knives stepped forward with a reflecting expression, shoving his crossbow-resembling gun back into his coat pocket. He scanned the parched ground before him and enjoyed the feel of the brittle gravel crunching beneath his feet. The recognition of a job well done filled his senses and made him laugh vindictively.

'_Very good_,' he thought to himself, pleased. '_Although, not perfect. Not as I thought._' Knives' mood darkened suddenly. He cupped his chin and growled at himself for the flaws of his new weapon that he had overlooked in its progress. It was powerful, he granted, but not powerful enough. And it was noticeably less docile than the original angel arm, considering it was only slightly more potent. The range and output were off, too, Knives discerned. Glitches he would have to remedy.

The faint whimpers of the child in his arms caught his attention. Knives turned to Airies and scowled as she suddenly burst into mountainous sobs.

"Stop blubbering," he hissed, but succumbing to give his niece a small cuddle. "I did you a favor." Airies cried into Knives' trench coat and instinctively clung to the fabric she could clasp with her tiny hands. Knives gave her a light, consoling pat and felt extremely awkward. He quickly ignored the feeling though, and turned his gaze back on the ground, perusing.

Something caught his eye amidst the sand. He crouched down and swept away the dust, revealing a small transparent stone with some molten silver adhering to it. He picked up the diamond and examined it. His brow slowly creased into a glare. It was hers, Knives realized. How had it survived? A paroxysmal wave of anger swept over him and he threw down the diamond with feverish loathing for the women who had taken his own brother from him.

"You let them get to you, Vash!" Knives bayed to the empty street, his breath heavy with fury. Airies ensued with a wail.

'_You let them befoul you…you've wasted your whole life on them, Vash_,' Knives snarled in thought, ignoring Airies. He was aflame in rage and sorrow for the injustice his kind suffered; for the injustice he had suffered because of two pathetic, useless humans.

"SEE WHAT YOU'VE BECOME?" Knives screamed, the agony of enduring the sin that was the human race bringing him to his knees. "YOU'RE A TRAITOR!"

Airies bawled louder than ever and finally her cries made a poignant impact on her uncle. Knives looked at her with glazed eyes and consequently began to think. What was he going to do with her now his plan was in motion? She was a half-breed, Knives perceived; part plant, part human. For this, Knives felt mixed urges. He felt the desire to protect Airies as one of his own kind and at the same time, the need to cause her great pain and anguish for the crime that she was. Knives weighed the pros, the cons and his options. He suddenly embraced his niece soothingly. Airies' cries slowly died away to minute whimpers.

"Da…shie," she said in an undertone with a snivel. Knives frowned.

"Don't worry," he spoke with underlying protectiveness. "You'll not be exposed to my brother's foolish Raison Detre. He'll never see you again." Knives looked with jaded eyes to the horizon and found himself undergoing a foreign emotion. He allowed himself to stand. With Airies held securely in his arms, he paced out into the distance, away from the wasteland town. His malignant character returning, a smile refined Knives' mouth.

-

Vash hummed blithely to himself, meandering out of the jewelers with a jacket slung over his shoulder. The standard cheesy grin was live across his face and he could not have looked so simplistically happy. He strutted down the cobbled pathway until he came to the bakery. The smell of oven fresh bread and pastry and sweet cakes and so many other delicious things tickled his nostrils. Pressing his forehead up against the window, he assessed the treats within. Cakes of indulgence and saccharine delicacies layered shelves on the left, while savory buns, rolls and hot pies and things occupied others. Vash grinned wider and went inside. He stood in the center of the shop for a moment and breathed deep. The aromas tantalized his senses.

"Good afternoon, Vash," said the dwarf-like store clerk, who went by the name of Brian White. At first, when Vash had begun ogling the contents of the bakery from outside, to and from his trips to work, Brian had certain 'suspicions' about the donut freak. As time went by, however, and Vash became usual in his visits with a very friendly disposition, Brian quickly warmed up to him and always found it quite flattering when Vash described his store-made donuts as "The best in the whole world!"

"What can I tempt you with today?" Brian asked with a chortle. "The usual?"

"No thanks, Mister White," said Vash. He smirked and slammed a ten double-dollar note flat on the bench. "Double-glazed!" he beamed.

"Coming right up!" hailed Brian, ducking below the counter and delving into the shelves. He resurfaced a moment later with a box of particularly sugary looking donuts. He smiled at Vash and handed them to him.

"They look yummy!" Vash said eagerly.

"Sure do," replied Brian. "On the house, Vash!" He pushed the note away. Vash looked at him.

"Oh, no!" he protested.

"Oh, yes. Come now, Vash. Can't I treat my best customer once in a while?" he laughed.

"Well, I guess so," Vash granted and began to laugh with him. "Hey, thanks!"

"My pleasure," said Brian as Vash made for the door. "See you tomorrow!"

"As always," Vash replied through a syrupy donut, waving. "Bye!" With that, he bounced out the door and continued out of the mews with an even wider grin on his face and a jump in his steps. There had been nothing fantastic or special about this day, he decided, but it had been great nonetheless. Vash could not have felt happier as he proceeded home. He sashayed up to the porch and flopped onto the wooden rocking chair, enjoying his fifth donut just as much as the first. Tawny sunshine now bathed the scene. Vash looked to the horizon and registered the first of the twin suns was setting. The remaining warm congregated another smile on his face. He sighed loudly and contentedly and slumped further down into the chair.

"Mister Vash?" he heard Milly call. "Is that you?" The front door opened inwards and Milly appeared at the threshold.

"Hello!" said Vash merrily. "I'm home." Milly gave him a strange look and he noticed it was disappointment.

"Meryl and Airies and Mister Knives aren't with you?" she posed.

"Uh…No. Why would they be?" Vash asked.

"Oh." The look of disappointment took a turn towards panic. "Well, they went out together to the corner store before lunchtime," Milly began. "Meryl said they would only be a little while but since they didn't come back before lunch, I assumed they would be visiting you at work or something."

Vash's happiness began to diminish, a look of slight alarm appearing on his own face.

"You didn't go look for them?" Vash asked incredulously.

"Meryl told me to look after the house," Milly said.

"Milly!" Vash yelled exasperatedly as panic completely overtook him. Milly was taken aback. Vash suddenly realized his outburst. Composing himself, he stood and handed his box of remaining donuts to Milly.

"Sorry, Milly. I'll go look for them now," he said, putting a reassuring smile on his face. Milly scrutinized him hesitantly for a moment then inclined her head. Vash threw his jacket onto the chair and sped off the porch and away down the street. His feet took him first to the corner store. Before the owner could shut up shop, Vash asked around if anyone had seen Meryl and Airies or Knives. No one had. Vash's panic mounted even more as he asked along the residents of the street and got no luck. Soon enough he was searching every nook of the town, although it took him little less than two hours seeing as it was not that big of a town. Not one person he asked had seen them and there was no trace of them anywhere within the settlement.

Vash dragged his feet miserably down the last road he had searched and wondered how Meryl, Knives and Airies could have just vanished. His feet no longer holding him and his remaining motivation turning to despair, he fell to his knees and sat in front of the smoldering sunset, staring at the ground. With a sigh he leant forward and put his palms to the sand, scrunching some up in each hand. Clenching tighter, he felt something sharp jab his palm.

"Ow!" he gasped and his fist quickly flew open. Vash dissected the contents of his hand and found a tiny diamond. Previously melted silver clung to it and stole some of the snowiness. Vash stared at it, his mind racing. Then, like a blow to the stomach he could not have been prepared for, comprehension dawned on him. His heart pounded and his breath came in rapid gasps. He glanced all around him for signs and noticed a contrast in the sand a few metres left from him. A darkish sort of mildew lay on the ground at bit away and in front of from him. A gasp then a scream expelled from Vash's lips and he sprung up and away from the sand as if it were acidic. He quavered on the spot, not sure if his legs would hold, just staring at the place where he had sat.

"Oh god," he rasped as the sting of understanding hit his eyes. "Oh god," he repeated and continued feverishly. As he stood, he shook more and more violently and tears came in rivulets down his cold cheeks. Ultimately, his legs gave way and he fell to his knees again. He clapped his hands to his face and sobbed loudly, sand mingling with the salty tears. Nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing could have eased this loss.

She had been killed so barbarically…Only the diamond was left.

Vash began to feel unwell and weak. He descended fully into the sand and simply lay, his body shaking, his face soggy. All feelings were shut out by grief. Around evening, he fell unconscious.

-

_She fell into the corner, her eyes and body throbbing and panging. She hugged herself and began to silently weep. Why did he do such things to her?_

_'It hurts,' said a voice in her mind. It was her own, but at the same time it belonged to someone else. She heard it often._

_'Yes,' she answered, gasping back a sob and clinging to her knees._

_'He's done it before,' said the voice with a melancholy air as it echoed in her head. 'I do not know why.'_

_'Nor do I. I only wish for his love.'_

_'I only wish for my father's love,' they spoke in unison._

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If thy wishes a faster update, thy knows what thy must do. -points to review button- 


	12. Grieving

Author's rambling: Oh my, over 3000 words. I was less lazy this time. o.o Anyways.. this is sort of a bridge chapter. Also, it may be just a little confusing at some points. So feel free to email me with questions if need be. But rest assured that all will be explained in the course of time. And now, I thank my new consultant with a bow. -bows-

;Standard disclaimer applies.

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**_Chapter twelve: Grieving_**

Lavender heaved a melodramatic sigh as she stood at the threshold to her new house. Getting her heavy bags of belongings up those steps had been a nightmare for her little arms. Collecting her breath, she puffed herself up smugly and began to inspect the sitting room. She hopped over to the moth-eaten couch and poked it vigorously in the way a cat would prod a dead rodent. Dust ejected from the armrest and made Lavender sneeze.

"Daddy!" she whined out. "This house is no good." Vash gradually surfaced up the stairs, lugging two bags of his own.

"What was that, Raven?" he huffed.

"I'm _allergic_ to this house, dad," Lavender moaned. Vash nudged Lavender's bags out of the doorway with his ankle and set his down next to them.

"No, you're not," he said dismissively, wiping perspiration from his forehead. "It's just a little dusty, that's all." Vash heaved a sigh of his own, stepping back out into the glaring midday sun. How many times were they going to do this, he wondered? Moving had become such a frequent event in the last eight years that it almost seemed like an everyday affair. It was very wearing. Though it would have been quite normal for Vash, had he still been the same nomadic person he was twelve or so years back. So many things had changed; Vash no longer went by his name even. He reverted back to 'Eriks' when concerning anyone other than Milly.

If old habits died hard, Milly's did especially so. Not once in the numerous years she had known Vash had she ever called him anything other than "Mister Vash." She kept this to a minimum whenever Lavender was present, however. No doubt Lavender had picked up the legend of Vash the Stampede from some place or other. And if not, she certainly would in the course of time. Knowing this, Vash felt that there was simply no need to go by his given name. No one who wished to protect his daughter would use a name that attracted unwanted attention liable to thrust his family into dangerous situations. That was the reason for moving and all the changes besides—protection.

Vash stared up into the cobalt skies and felt a niggling pain in his chest. One of the wounds that had never really healed, or rather, had not begun to heal. Even in the eight years since _then_, there was not a day when she did not cross Vash's thoughts.

Milly pushed past Vash, a couple of boxes piled in her arms. Seeing the morose in his eyes, she smiled at Vash and would have grasped his forearm consolingly, had her arms not been preoccupied. Instead, she gave his foot a small nudge with her own. Vash snapped from his daze and glanced at Milly, arranging his mouth into a smile.

"Is there anything left?" he asked happily. Milly saw through his sanguine façade as though it were glass. There was not a thing she missed, after all. Nothing could be hidden from Milly's hawk-like eyes.

"Just the last two bags," she replied. Vash nodded and whipped down to the jeep, grabbing the remaining luggage from the trunk. Milly stepped inside the house and set the boxes at her feet, the floorboards creaking in protest as she did so. Her gaze circled the room. To her immediate left was a doorway to a bedroom and in the far left corner, another. Set against the wall in between them both was the decrepit sofa on which Lavender was now sitting, swinging her legs back and forth in boredom. Milly glanced to her right and observed the archway to the kitchen, the doorways to both another bedroom and the bathroom flanking either side of it.

Dust made itself known in the air and Milly sneezed just as Lavender had done. She frowned and began to inspect the cleanliness of the house. Lavender watched her scoot from room to room and chuckled as Milly came out of the bedroom alongside the kitchen with her hair a mat of cobwebs.

"I think this house could use a woman's touch," Milly said reprovingly, gliding her finger along the top of the mantelpiece that harboured the fireplace. Her index had left a trail of clean russet amid the grey soot.

"Well, how about we give it a little TLC this afternoon?" Vash proposed as he set the bags with the others.

"Why not?" said Milly cheerfully with a shrug. Vash gave her an appreciative smile then looked at Lavender.

"Well, okay," she groaned.

"Good. And when we're done, I'll treat us all to something yummy!" Vash beamed.

They ate a quick lunch of sandwiches that Milly had prepared beforehand and set to work. Vash went about all the nasty jobs like scrubbing the kitchen sink free of all grime, a long job considering the size of the basin, and clearing each room of its noxious-looking stains. Milly was placed with the easy, but laborious task of sweeping the dust out of each room and then removing the small household pests and cobwebs. Since Lavender was far too weak to do it alone, the three of them hefted the beds and sofa out into the air of the street so she could go about batting them all free of their dust and moths and whatnot else. The sheets and doonas also got a nice beating.

When all the necessary jobs were done and out of the way, the three of them marvelled at their work with gratified eyes then began the next job of unpacking their belongings. It was a less than arduous task since there was precious little to unpack and it took them just over half an hour to do so. With the day's labour completed roughly around five-thirty, Milly, Vash and Lavender set out into the heart of May city for dinner.

-

"That was nummy!" cried Lavender after her third bowl of boysenberry ice cream, smacking her lips.

"I'll say," Vash mumbled through a mouthful of donuts. Milly grinned but made no comment and continued shovelling pudding into her mouth. Vash and Lavender chuckled at her. It seemed the threesome had unceremoniously dismissed dinner and skipped straight on to dessert. Not such an unusual occurrence since they were all sweet-toothed.

Milly glanced curiously around the diner they were in. It was a family-friendly looking place even despite the few empty liquor bottles scattered around the tables and the veil of wispy cigarette smoke above them. Milly suppressed a sigh for the memories inspired by that smoke hanging in the air. How she missed that wonderful, albeit unconventional, priest. Even after all the years without him, the thorn in Milly's heart showed no signs of receding. But after the falling of her best friend, the pain doubled severely. It became almost unbearable for both Vash and Milly and it was only the simple rapport between them that kept them from unthinkable limits.

Sometimes, mostly at night when sleep eluded either of them, a sharp stab of loss would grip them and they would despair until granted the comfort of the other. Like a ray of sunlight breaking through the cement of storm clouds, Milly was a gift to Vash and he to her. In a world of cruelty, unfairness and harsh situations, all one really needed to survive was a good friend to stand by always.

"Shall we go?" Vash posed, yawning and pushing his empty box of donuts forward. Milly glanced back at him. She swallowed her mouthful of pudding and nodded.

"It is getting a little late," she replied. Lavender shrugged and scooped her last spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. They all stood, Milly and Lavender making for the exit while Vash paid, or rather lazily threw the correct amount of notes at, the restaurant owner and strolled out after them.

"Daaaaaad," Lavender yawned as they all padded down the street.

"Mm?" Vash looked warmly down at her.

"I'm tired," she stated. "Can you carry me the rest of the way?" she whined. Vash smiled and obliged his daughter, setting her on his shoulder. Lavender grinned and began impishly playing with Vash's long, non-spiked hair. Milly watched her and giggled at the wayward look on her face.

"Hey, you cut that out. Both of you," Vash laughed.

"Daddy," Lavender said in a slight wheedling tone. "It's my birthday in two weeks."

"So it is," Vash said with fake surprise. "How old will you be? Five? Six?"

"Da-ad!" Lavender exclaimed indignantly. "Don't be silly! I'm turning _nine_!" she corrected.

"Wow," said Milly. "You're growing up so fast, I can't believe it!" Lavender straightened up and looked proudly about her. Vash and Milly exchanged funny smiles.

"So what would you like?" Vash asked as they all turned up the stairs.

"I wanna see Syrell," Lavender demanded. Syrell, Vash recalled, was Lavender's best friend. They had met, and become very close, during the time Vash, Milly and Lavender were living in New Miami, some three years ago. It was a wonder, however, that they had managed to become so attached in the short time that they had known one another. As the threesome was constantly circumnavigating the planet, Lavender had very little time to make good friends. She made friends easily, of course, but not _good_ friends. Thus, when she and Syrell were separated, she became very depressed. Very depressed, that was, for a six-year-old.

Vash pondered for a moment as he unlocked the front door. Though he would love to give his daughter what she really desired, New Miami was so very far away and they just couldn't afford to do extra travelling, what with only Milly's small wage to live by. It was strange that the Bernardelli Insurance Society still employed her after eight years of only correspondence work, but given the events that had taken place, it seemed that something like pity was to be had for her.

Vash suddenly felt a little regret that he had left his own job at the jewellers all those years ago. Katrina had been nice, very nice in fact, and was truly sad to see her employee leave. But as for Vash and Milly, neither of them could bear to live in a town that inspired such grief. Needless to say, also, that they knew Knives would return one day and they wished not to get those nice, friendly townspeople involved. So, since Vash knew exactly what it felt like to abscond on a good friend, he decided that he would one day, if not for Lavender's coming birthday, make amends for his daughter.

"Well, okay," Vash said, setting Lavender down on the sofa. "I think that can be arranged." Milly shifted uncertainly.

"Really?" Lavender grinned ecstatically at the prospect. Vash beamed and nodded.

"You promise?" Lavender coaxed, a suspicious but hopeful look in her eyes.

"I promise," Vash assured, hiding his own uncertainty. He turned to Milly for her support. "Right?" Milly stood resolute for a moment then quickly nodded and put a soft smile to her face.

"Yay!" Lavender cheered happily. She jumped up excitedly and hugged her father and surrogate mother. "You guys are the best!" she exclaimed. At that remark, Vash knew he would feel a great deal of guilt if he did not fulfil that promise.

"Thank you, thank you!" Lavender squealed in glee, bouncing from Vash to Milly and hugging them both in turn multiple times.

"Okay," Milly said. She couldn't help but laugh a little. "I think it's time for bed."

"Aww, alright," Lavender moaned, but traipsed towards her new bedroom. "Goodnight, then. Thank you!"

"'Night, Raven," Vash pet-called, waving after her.

"Goodnight, Lavender," said Milly. Only after Lavender shut the bedroom door behind her, did Milly and Vash swap apprehensive looks at one another.

-

_It had been a mistake, he conceded, lashing out at her like that. And now he knew she would grieve having been ill treated. But it had been an accident. A simple build-up of stress released at the wrong time. Or so he kept telling himself. Nevertheless, it was a mistake he would remedy. He crept inaudibly along the steel corridor until he came to her room. Careful to still keep silent, he pressed his ear against the cool metal of the door and listened._

_As predicted, she was crying, ostensibly in the far corner. But then…something else caught his ears. He leant in closer and discerned that she was speaking with someone. Then he realized that, no, she was not speaking but thinking. He listened for the other voice. However, it seemed that she was mentally speaking with none other than… herself?_

-

Vash sat in the living room in his own presence, his cold, gaunt hands brushing the yellowing pages of the photo album and flicking them one after the other. His eyes followed the lines and shadows and details of each frame, gazing into the emotion displayed by each one and its contents. It was late, and only the moon's glow, billowing in through the window, illuminated the stills before him. Vash laid his weary eyes on the photos that consecutively showed Lavender's growth over the years.

In every second frame, she was wearing Vash's own silly grin; one of the few things Lavender had inherited from her father. For the greater part, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Meryl. She had raven hair, from which her pet name was derived, lilac eyes, a height to be laughed at and personality traits likes Meryl's such as moodiness, bossiness and a tendency to _switch off_. For this semblance, it sometimes pained Vash to look at his daughter; something he was not proud to tell anyone.

He turned back several pages, again, and stared into an image of Meryl. This was Vash's favourite photograph of her for the simple reason that she was not concealing herself with a smile but instead gave a warm, determined countenance.

"Daddy?" came Lavender's tiny voice from her bedroom doorway. Vash was started slightly but drew his eyes away from the album in front of him.

"What is it, sweetie?" he replied croakily, giving Lavender a tired smile.

"I can't sleep, dad. Can you get me a drink?" she asked.

"Sure," Vash said warmly, rising from his chair. "What would you like?"

"Just water."

Vash plodded into the kitchen, Lavender following. He retrieved a small glass from the cupboard and poured some water into it from the tap.

"There you go, honey."

"Thanks, dad," Lavender whispered, easing the glass into her grip. She toddled back out of the kitchen and towards her bedroom. Vash wandered back to the living room table and reclaimed his seat.

"Goodnight, daddy," Lavender bid.

"Goodnight, Raven," Vash replied. "Sleep well." Lavender disappeared behind the bedroom door. Vash returned his gaze to the album of monochrome photographs. He began to leaf through the pages once more but found his attention wouldn't hold to them so he got up and slumped down into the sofa. He put his head in his hands and sighed, not noticing Milly appear, clad in her yellow pajamas and a teddy in her arm, at the door to her own bedroom.

"You're still up, Mister Vash?" she exclaimed. Vash jumped slightly and looked up, quickly making shushing gestures with his hands.

"I can't sleep," he whispered hoarsely. Milly glanced sideways and registered the open book on the table. She pressed forward and took a seat next to Vash, putting an arm around him.

"Looking at the photo album again, huh?" she perceived. Vash looked away from her. He nodded.

"Mister Vash…" Milly began gently. "It's been eight years."

"I know," Vash conceded.

"Try and get some sleep," Milly pleaded. "You look awful. And you're going to come down with something if you start staying up to all hours again."

"I know."

Milly sighed, feeling a twinge at her eyes.

"I know," Vash reiterated for the third time. "And you're right."

Milly nodded, sensing the twinge leave her, putting her other arm around her friend.

"Do you still…?" Vash posed hesitantly.

"I try not to. I believe he wouldn't want me to live constantly grieving for him," Milly replied with an air of wisdom beyond her years. Vash felt a small smile grace his features.

"No, he wouldn't," Vash agreed, burying his face in the sunny fabric of Milly's nightclothes. "Thank you, Milly. It is important for me to stay strong."

Milly smiled and nodded.

"For Lavender. For all three of us."

"Yes," Milly agreed. They sat in silence for several moments.

"Goodnight, Milly," Vash murmured.

"Goodnight, Mister Vash," Milly replied, releasing Vash and standing up. "Sweet dreams." With that, she plodded back to her room with her teddy bear clutched tightly under her arm. Vash lifted himself up from the couch and stepped forward. He took one last heavy-eyed look at the photo album, engrossed in the photo of his love, a single tear beginning a trail down his cheek. The last of his grief spent, he flipped over the page and looked instead at a picture of his daughter.

"Lavender…" he breathed. "What would I do without you?"

-

_'I only wish for my father's love,' he heard her say in a twin-tone. He was utterly bewildered. How was it possible to hear someone think? Let alone think with someone else who happened to be the same person. Then something clicked in his mind._

_'Perhaps…'_

_He smiled. If his new theory was correct then what a fortunate happenstance this was. For eight long years _they_ had evaded him. For eight years _they_ had escaped his motives, when all that time, the key had been right within his grasp._

_He envisioned it as he had done so many times before. He saw himself standing triumphantly over the small, limp body of another, laughing maliciously, and his eyes alight._

_Another smile found his lips and he knocked gently on her door._

_"Airies," he called through the metal with an air of sincere regret. "Please let me talk to you."_

-

Vash tiptoed back out of Lavender's room. What a fearsome nightmare he had dreamt. He just had to check to see whether Lavender was alright. And she was. It was silly to have thought the specter of a nightmare could have harmed her, even if it did seem like a familiar figure. She was completely fine and that was the important thing.

But then again, Vash considered, perhaps it wasn't just a dream after all. Vash tried to put the word 'premonition' out of his mind but found it almost too difficult. Sighing ruefully, he made into Milly's bedroom and shook her gently by the shoulder.

"Milly," he whispered in a tone coaxing her to wake. Milly stirred and mumbled something incoherent about pudding. Gradually, she opened her eyes.

"Mister Vash?" she croaked, staring blearily up at him. "Why are you still up?"

"I'm not," Vash said absently. "Milly…we gotta go." Milly stared at him for a long while then a look of sad understanding came across her face.

"It's that time already?" she asked. She heaved a sigh. "And May city was such a nice place…"

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And now it's that time already for you readers. :3 Review or I shall cry and not update for a very long time. I mean it. T-T 


	13. Paranoia

Author's Notes: Wow. Over 4000 words. o-o Let's just hope the quality equals the quantity. -sweatdrop- Thankee, reviewers! Sorry it took a whole week to write this chapter! x.x

;Standard disclaimer applies.

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**_Chapter thirteen: Paranoia_**

Lavender stirred involuntarily in her sleep and hugged her white plush closer into her chest. A visionless dream began surging into her mind, a whirl of voices.

'_It hurts_,' she heard herself cry to the darkness, feeling sorrow beyond her understanding. '_He's done it before_,' the void echoed back. _'I do not…nor do…I only wish…'_ The voices circled and reverberated off one another and she could not grasp what each was saying. '_…my father's love…my father's…Lavender…Lavender!'_

"Lavender, wake up!" Vash coaxed exasperatedly.

"Wha?" Lavender uttered sleepily, rolling over and out of her dream. Vash was shaking her vigorously.

"Lavender, wake up," he reiterated, now with an odd anxiousness in his voice. "You've gotta pack your things."

-

"Da-aaaaaaad," Lavender whined above the constant purring of the jeep.

"Yes?" Vash replied slightly irritably.

"Where are we going? You _promised_ we'd never do any traveling on my birthday," Lavender said indignantly.

"We're going to New Miami, Lavender."

'_New Miami_,' Lavender repeated in her mind. Her heart jumped then fell back with a humiliating 'splat.' '_So he's finally coughing up_,' she thought, folding her arms and slouching back into the leather tarpaulin. '_Bit late._' A bland eight years had past by since Vash's promise to reunite Lavender with her childhood friend. Lavender was now seventeen and as normal a teenager as any other. Thus, she believed she was quite the opposite of normal. During those eight years, her hair had become long, sleek and wavy, she was thin and, surprisingly, had grown taller than either Vash or Milly had inferred.

"It's about time," Lavender grumbled.

"Lavender! Be gracious," Milly reprimanded from the passenger's seat. Lavender rolled her eyes.

"Well, it _is_ about time."

"Do what your mother says, Lavender," Vash said, not taking his eyes off the stretch of sand in front of him. Lavender scowled at the rear-view mirror and slumped down into the seat some more. She knew Milly wasn't her actual mother. She was smart, although it didn't take someone with immense intellect to do the math. Brown plus blonde don't make black, she had summed countless time before. No less did aqua green and blue equal lilac. The genes just didn't add up.

Lavender grabbed up her satchel of possessions and rooted around in the front pocket. She pulled out a small Discman and headphones. A belonging that had proved ultimately handy whenever Lavender's family traveled long distances such as these. Gazing at passing sand dunes the whole way only caused her to become restless. However, she very much liked music, she loved it in fact, and it kept her sane on these agonizingly monotonous sand planes. Besides listening to music, Lavender enjoyed playing it as well. A glossy, leopard-patterned electric guitar rested in the trunk of the jeep. Vash and Milly had pooled money together like Church mice and bought it for her on her fourteenth birthday, along with several guides and handbooks to accompany it. Being bright for her age, learning how to use the instrument had not been a problem for Lavender.

Another birthday present with a leopard-like pattern covering it gave a very anxious "miaaaoooow." Lavender glanced down at the cat carrier by her side and swiveled it around. Charlie, her fat but enormously lovable ginger moggy, was her gift at fifteen. Vash and Lavender had stepped out for a delectable lunch of ice cream and donuts when they came upon a box of kittens and a black cat, ostensibly the mother of the brood. Lavender took one look at them and instantaneously began to plead with her father. Vash had specifically made it clear that Lavender would not receive a present that year since the guitar had been so expensive. But how could he have refused such a sad face? The cardboard sign above the box bore, "Free to good home," anyway.

Charlie cried again, putting his paws up against his confines and splaying his claws through the wire. Lavender's face fell with sympathy a little and she petted his toes in a 'not long now' fashion. She set her headphones in and prodded the play button on her Discman. Nothing issued into her ears. She jabbed the button again, and again. Peering huffily down at the machine, she noticed the innocent flash of the red 'battery' light.

"Garr!" Lavender growled loudly and, if tangible, would have 'humphed' even further down into the seat. Instead she just glared jadedly again at the rear-view mirror.

"Dad," she puffed.

"Yes?" Vash circumspectly replied with a sideways glance.

"We're never gonna get there at this rate," Lavender proclaimed. "Put your foot on it."

-

_"Airies," Knives called through the metal with an air of sincere regret. "Please let me talk to you." Airies cringed at his voice and swallowed back her tears. She screwed up her eyes and burrowed tighter into her safe corner, shutting her own and Knives' voice out. She didn't want to see him. Not after what he had done to her. The pain was still ricocheting back and forth through her body, prolonged by her violent shaking. He had acted so abruptly. Without warning._

_"Airies," Knives probed again. Airies heard heartfelt emotion in his voice and willed herself not to spring forward and unlock her bedroom door. She wanted to understand. She wanted to be in his arms and feel the pain leave her and be replaced by reconciling love. Whimpering faintly, Airies rubbed the mixing blood and tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She squinted slightly and unfurled her fist before her. The scarlet liquid trickled down her wrist and forearm, helped by the salty tears that made it even more fluid. Airies bit at her lip and closed herself away from the sight. Everything was making her weak. The salt and the wound it was upsetting and stinging it like venom; the sadness and the voices speaking it; the bond with her father near shattered like the bones in her shoulder. She could taste it all. The very air was making her nauseous._

-

Lavender gave her new house a questionable, lopsided grimace. She puckered her brow at the living room and gave it a little less than its desired credit. It was nicer than most of her previous houses, she would not call them homes, but since there had been so many of the aforesaid, she had trained herself into disliking all of them lest she get a little too attached and then have to leave when her father said so. And though this new house was comfortably large and dust and must free, Lavender couldn't help but dislike the fact that it was situated in a very pleasant suburb of New Miami that was completely opposite where her childhood companion used to live.

"It's nice and roomy, don't you think?" Milly said cheerily, setting a carry bag in the centre of the room. Lavender ignored her for a moment and continued to give the living room her once-over.

"Well…" she began judiciously, striding primly over to the staircase and observing its granite grandeur. "It's not bad," she conceded. Vash appeared next to Milly, Lavender's guitar slung over his shoulder by its strap and Charlie in his cat carrier in Vash's other hand.

"Come on, let's pick our rooms so we can dump everything and have lunch!" he intended, grinning.

"Yeah, I'm hungry," exclaimed Milly, returning Vash's grin. Lavender rolled her eyes. It was just typical that all they could think of was food. Then again, was there anything better to think of?

"You first, Raven," said Vash. Lavender regarded him with a slight nod then, none of the rooms she could see into bearing much appeal, made up the stairs. At the top, she had half expected to find there a small hallway with three or more doorways branching off of it. Instead there was a short landing and only a single door. She pushed it ajar, still relatively unimpressed. Them moment she set foot inside, her eyes were shot with sunlight and she quickly shielded her face. Both the opposite and neighboring walls were panelled with slightly tinted glass and allowing the midday sunlight to billow in. Lavender squinted and paced forward to the wall facing her. She rested her fingers on the cool glass and gazed down into the street below. None of the other houses had a view like this, she discerned with pride.

"I want this room!" Lavender shouted out blatantly, glancing over her shoulder at the door.

"Okay!" she heard Vash and Milly call back up to her from the rooms beneath. Lavender turned back to her view and grinned menacingly down at suburbia. Flipping one of the upper panels askew, she leaned out of the window and eyed the buildings. A cool breeze hovering above the city and not daring to grace the streets below drifted past and through Lavender's silky hair, throwing it about in the sunshine.

"Raven!" Vash's voice drifted faintly up to her. Lavender was about to reply when a familiar dwelling caught her eyes in the distance. The red rooftop of Syrell's home stuck out like a swollen thumb. Lavender's heart leapt and so did she, almost out the window.

"Yes?" she called loudly back to Vash after he beckoned her a second time.

"Come and get lunch!" Vash issued. Lavender took another pleased look at the corrugated a-frame then drew her eyes away and went back down stairs.

"I'm not hungry," she said dismissively as Vash opened his mouth to announce something. "I think I'll take a walk." And with that, she whipped outside and up the street. Headed in the general direction of Syrell's home, Lavender jogged up and down suburbs and then bustling city streets, peering around every so often for any signposts or familiar landmarks. She had very rarely visited this plane of New Miami in her time living here as a six-year-old but, despite that, she picked her way through the city and was coming breathily along the street of her destination in under half an hour.

Lavender dragged her feet through the thin layer of sand and came to a halt at the end of the boulevard. She put her hands on her hips in a triumphant stance and smiled up at the tessellated brick house before her. It was vaguely as she remembered. There was a bit of an odd cleanliness about the windows and some of the mould had been persuaded away from the walls but it was definitely Syrell's home. Lavender strode forward onto the elongated deck—funny, she didn't really remember it having a porch—and gave the door a sharp knock.

"Coming!" she heard. Within a few moments, a stout but friendly looking woman in a cooking apron answered the door. Straight away, Lavender's hopes of finally being reunited with her friend died away and a word of bitter understanding came to her: _'Oh.'_ Syrell had obviously migrated elsewhere, since Lavender had no idea who this woman was. She could not have been a friend of Syrell's family, either, since they had always kept to themselves.

"Good afternoon," said the woman. She gave Lavender a sweet smile. "Do I know you, dear?" the woman asked with affable politeness.

"Er…no," Lavender hesitated.

"How can I help you, then?" Lavender thought for a moment. Perhaps the lady would know where Syrell's family had moved to.

"Well, you see...I'm looking for a friend of mine," Lavender began.

"Do they live on this street?" the woman inferred.

"No, they don't. Or rather, they used to. In fact, they used to live in this house," Lavender added.

"Oh, I see now. What was your friend's name?"

"Syrell," Lavender said. "And he's about my age. Did he…um…do you know if he was living here before you?" she tried. The woman thought about this

"No. I don't think so, no. I bought this house off of a married couple, but I don't think they had children."

"Ah." Lavender looked crestfallen. The woman gave her an expression of genuine sympathy and said: "Never mind, dearie." This didn't cheer Lavender up much. She did mind and she didn't want to entertain a positive mind. Thanking the woman, Lavender left and trudged back down the road. A heavy heart weighed down in her feet and she didn't much want to return to her new house. And as she had dashed across half the city, her stomach now rumbled and protested against her doing it again. She was on the edge of a junction now and cars were purring up and down the streets. Glancing around, Lavender saw that there was a small complex of shops, and a café among them, across the road. She smiled and felt around in her pocket, pulling out a fifty double dollar note that she had received as birthday money. Vash had said to buy something that she wanted, and right now what she wanted more than anything was food. So she quickly crossed over and went into the café.

"Good afternoon, miss," the man at the counter, tagged 'Joe', greeted her cordially. Lavender gave him a wan sort of smile.

"Afternoon," she said, browsing over the assorted snacks behind the glass of the counter. She would settle for something sweet, she deduced. A delectable and moist piece of chocolate mud cake stood out dark and gooey with hazelnuts littered about the icing and at least an inch of crème filling in between layers. Lavender gulped back her fancy for it and decided on a custard tart and a small spearmint milkshake instead.

And they were rather tasty, Lavender thought, as she nibbled on the shortbread crust of the tart, enjoying the coolness of the custard and the cinnamon taste complimenting the pastry. Sighing, she stared glumly from her table into the street outside. She wasn't looking forward to going home. Vash would only scold her for leaving so suddenly without a second glance and going off alone into 'such a dangerous city.' Lavender hated that about her father; he had 'such a hopeless case of paranoia,' as she often put it. Of course, she had never dared say that to him or her mother. It really did stress her being constantly non-settled in once place, though. There were a lot of things that annoyed Lavender about her parents. For one, they never slept in the same room. She knew why this was, but it bothered her nonetheless that they couldn't be more discreet about their charade. If one is to lie, then one might destroy evidence opposing one, Lavender often philosophised.

She sighed again and circled the dregs of her milkshake around with her straw. There were also a lot of questions in her life. And not just questions a simple and average teenager would ask. For example: Why did she sometimes get random bursts and pulses of energy? Lavender had even asked Vash this. He would simply say, "hormones," cover an anxious look and speak nothing more on the topic. And why was he always hiding the photo album and ogling it by night? Lavender also wondered why, ever since she was a child, she had dreams that involved her talking to herself and feeling emotion that almost seemed to belong to someone else. Though she had long since gotten accustomed to these dreams, it still perplexed her why she got them. Then she considered that, maybe, since her father was pretty paranoid, he had passed some mental incapacity on to her. It wasn't a very appealing explanation.

_'Then again,'_ Lavender thought as she slurped down the last of the froth, '_maybe I don't want to know why._' She shoved her rubbish forward into the centre of the table and rested her chin lazily on her palm. She supposed now it was time to return home, but didn't warm up to the prospect, as she didn't fancy being lectured the moment she set foot in the kitchen. There was still a slight groan inLavender's stomach, too.

'_Maybe if I…_' she considered, thinking. _'I know!'_

"Excuse me," Lavender called to Joe.

"Yes?" Joe looked at her with genial politeness.

"It just so happens," Lavender began prudently, "that today is my birthday."

"Congratulations," said Joe earnestly. "How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen," Lavender replied. "And since it's my birthday, I think I'd like to treat myself and my family to something."

"What a nice idea! What would you like?" Lavender left her table and came to survey the contents of the shelves again. It didn't take her long to decide.

"I want a cake," she said. "A mud cake. Like that one there." She pointed to the imperial mound of brown mire.

"So you want the whole cake?" Joe asked. Lavender gave him a customer's smile.

"Yes," she said happily. This would solve both the hunger problem and the sermon. A rich and gooey mud cake would reconcile and wrongdoing.

"Alrighty," Joe beamed, ducking away into the storage room and coming back with a white, square box. He carefully put it in a plastic bag and swapped it for the money Lavender gave him.

"Be careful on your way home," Joe warned considerately, putting the twenty double dollars in the cashier as Lavender made for the door. "You wouldn't want to drop it."

"I'll be careful. Thank you." Lavender left the shop and, with a considerably more cheerful mood, she strolled hastily down the road towards her home. There was no way Vash would have the heart to yell at her now.

_'He's such a sucker for food,'_ Lavender thought, smirking and giggling to herself. What Lavender really liked about her father was how easy it was to impress him. She had once made him pancakes for breakfast and he had acted warmly to her for the whole of that day. And despite all the negative things that Lavender could conjure about Vash, the fact still remained that she did love him.

_'I just wish he wouldn't—'_ "OOF!" Lavender grunted as someone collided with her out of the blue. She fell backwards onto the concrete, winded, her bag flying out of her hands.

"OH NO!" she gasped and scuffled forward momentously. Luckily she caught the delicate cake with her palms narrowly before it met the footpath.

"Ohmygod, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed themale who had smashed into her. Lavender's head instantaneously swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees and she gave him a look that could chill the very planet itself with the fire in her eyes. Her breath coming in bull-like huffs, she picked herself up and glared scathingly into the boy's eyes. For some strange reason, his jaw dropped and Lavender almost heard the 'clunk' of it meeting the pavement. Ignoring this, she burst out.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? LOOK WHERE YOU'RE GOING WHEN YOU RUN, YOU DAFT IDIOT! YOU COULD'VE SQUISHED MY BIRTHDAY CAKE! I PAID THROUGH THE NOSE TO GET THIS MUD CAKE AND YOU WOULD HAVE RUINED MY DAY COMPLETELY!"

The boy said nothing and just stared incredulously at her.

"Well…?" Lavender demanded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"…Lavender?" he posed quietly, his eyes widening. Lavender was stunned.

"What?" she blurted.

"Is that you, Lavender?"

"Uh, do I know you?" Lavender asked reprovingly. She cocked a brow.

"Lavender, it's me! Syrell!" Lavender's jaw made its own 'clunk' against the footpath.

"Uh…wha…gah?" Lavender stumbled over her words. "My god," she said finally. She was bubbling up with glee inside. "Syrell! It's you! You've changed so much!"

"Hah!" Syrell hooted. He smiled and ran a hand over his slicked, auburn hair. "You haven't," he laughed. "Not a bit!"

"Rrrr!" Lavender growled, her face turning angry claret. Syrell broke into fits of laughter and deftly caught Lavender's fist as it made for his face.

"Don't laugh at me, you!" Lavender bellowed, scowling.

"Don't yell at me," Syrell countered, chuckling. He smiled warmly and Lavender smiled back, lowering her fist.

"Has it really been eleven years, Syrell?" she asked.

"Feels more like twelve," Syrell replied. They both laughed and smiled at one another again.

"I went to your house," Lavender stated, "But there's a lady living there now. She said that she bought the house off of a married couple."

"Yeah. Mum and dad," Syrell replied.

"Huh?"

"I moved out before them, see? I live on the other side of the city in a small flat now," he explained.

"Oh, I see! Mum, dad and I live on the other side now too. We just got here today!" Lavender was now beaming she was so happy. She had found Syrell! Nothing could have made her day better. Syrell saw the elation in her eyes and grabbed her by the hand.

"Let's do something together!" he proposed, beaming back at her. Lavender hid a blush and nodded.

"Would you like to come back to my place and have some cake?" she asked.

-

_"Airies," Knives tried again ruefully. "Please." At that, Airies caved in and crawled weakly forward. She clasped a hand over her shoulder to stem the pain and winced blood out of her eye as she flicked the lock on the door. The door slid open and Knives promptly knelt down beside Airies, taking her in his arms as she began to descend._

_"Airies, I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her close and gently. A noise both a whimper and a cry escaped Airies' lips and she clutched at the fabric of Knives shirt._

_"I didn't mean to…" Knives mumbled._

_Airies peered up into her father's eyes and her lips made a smile. The pain began to fade away._

_"I understand," she said softly._

-

"Wow, it sure is late," said Lavender as she and Syrell wandered slowly towards her house. "We must have spent hours in that bar!"

"Yeah, we did," Syrell pointed out. The two of them had frittered away the rest of the afternoon in a friendly local, just chatting. However, it ended up being that neither of them had drunk or eaten a single thing while they were in there. Lavender had missed Syrell more greatly than she knew. She had missed his wit, his sky blue eyes that twinkled when he was happy, his manner, especially though, his friendship and she had been completely smitten with him during their time together.

"It must be…what, nearly ten o'clock? Dad will be furious with me!" Lavender laughed. Syrell gave an uncertain smile.

"Thank god you've got that cake to butter him up," he said.

"Yeah," Lavender chuckled. "You coming in?" she asked as her hand clasped around the doorknob.

"I think I better," Syrell replied. "It's my fault you're so late, so I should help you explain."

Lavender adopted smile that stretched between both her ears. Syrell was always so thoughtful, she realized. She pushed the door open and, to her surprise, spotted Vash almost immediately in front of her, looking very unhappy. He sat slouching in a throne-like armchair directly in front of the door, one leg folded over the other. He was stroking a purring Charlie in his lap and a defiant scowl was set in his eyes. Lavender stared and had to hold back a small laugh. Obviously enough, Vash had plunked himself down and just sat for hours, waiting and planning exactly what he would say and do when Lavender returned. This amused her. If Vash was attempting to appear the domineering father, he was failing miserably.

Vash slowly raised his hand away from Charlie and pointed stiffly at the clock on the wall next to him.

"You are late," he said calmly, repressing the anger in his voice.

"I didn't say what time I was coming home," Lavender countered. Vash suddenly looked livid.

"Where HAVE you been?" he demanded. Charlie jerked awake and promptly scampered off Vash's lap and into the darkness. Vash didn't look so comical now.

"I said I was going for a walk," Lavender corrected, determined to remain composed though she trod back a little. Syrell peered over her shoulder then carefully stepped around her.

"Good evening, Mister Eriks," he said friendlily. Vash's eyes snapped to Syrell. If he had been fuming at Lavender he looked as though he were about to erupt on Syrell.

"Who are you?" Vash shot at Syrell, looking him over. Vash's eyes suddenly widened to the size of tennis balls and with the fury of a charging sandworm. "What have you been doing with my daughter?"

"Nothing dangerous or questionable, I assure you, sir," Syrell replied, a tranquil, earnest smile gracing his lips. Vash opened his mouth to question him further.

"Dad!" Lavender injected, stepping in front of Syrell again before he was subject to Vash's lava flow. "Dad, this is _Syrell_! I bumped into him on the way home and we got talking and we completely forgot about the time and I really didn't mean to stay out so late. It just sort of…happened," she explained feverishly. Vash narrowed his eyes darkly.

"And I wonder what other things just sort of…happened," he said, eyeing Syrell. Lavender's cheeks went slightly pink and she glared at her father.

"For goodness' sake, dad!" she shouted.

"Don't talk to _me_ like that!" retorted Vash.

"What's going on in here?" Milly had just surfaced from her bedroom in her pajamas, looking haggard.

"Lavender's _finally_ home," Vash told Milly simply, glancing at her then turning back to his daughter. "I'm very ashamed of you, Lavender," he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Going off like that into such a dangerous city…" Lavender rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Come off it, dad," she said derisively. "I'm seventeen. Not three. Why can't you stop being so bloody paranoid once in a while?"

In a flash, everyone in the room was silent. Vash was looking breathy, Lavender had a hand to her cheek and Milly and Syrell were so stiff with shock they were in danger of freezing over. Vash suddenly realized what he had done and stepped forward.

"Lavender…" he murmured, reaching out.

"Mister Vash," Milly interceded.

'_Vash?_' Lavender's eyes amplified in a mixture of confusion and anger. She struck Vash's hand sharply away before it could connect with her.

"Don't touch me," she spat, glaring down at her feet. Vash's bottom lip was pursed between his teeth in uncertainty. Lavender ignored the fact that all other eyes in the room were placed on her. She knelt down and discreetly took up the photo album beside the armchair. Righting herself, she opened the book at a random page and pored over the images. For a long while, everyone was deathly quiet as Lavender turned the pages. After minutes of this routine, her brow suddenly knotted in anger and her hand flared up and began ripping the photographs and pages out with volatile force. She bared her teeth, scrunching up page after page and throwing them at Vash who shielded himself and watched hopelessly as Lavender desecrated the book. When Milly made forward, Lavender decided it was time to make her exit. Her anger fueled, she lobbed the album at Vash and rapidly whisked out the door and up the street.

Half an ile, five streets away, Lavender ducked into an alleyway and leant against the wall, catching her breath. Vaguely she noticed that there was still a photo creased up in her hand. Stepping shakily into the moonlight, she unfurled the paper and held it up. As she stared at it, her blood chilled.

_'It can't be…'_

But there was no mistaking it. The man in the photograph was Vash the Stampede, and the woman standing in front of him…was Lavender's mother.

* * *

Long chapter. :0 Again, sorry for the delay! x.x 


	14. Revenge and Reverie

Author's chatterings: Oh dear. I'm slowing down. .-. I'm so sorry for that, everyone! I'll -try- to write more. What with school and all, it's hard, but I'll try! This chapter is, again, for Wolferz. Thank you so much, Wolfie. For all your help, encouragement, ideas and criticism. I am forever grateful! I wouldn't have made it past chapter eight if it wasn't for you. Also, I whack Knives in Ruru-chan's honor and beat him for the reviewers. Keep 'em comin', guys. :3

;Standard disclaimer applies.

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_**Chapter fourteen: Revenge and Reverie**_

Airies' face contorted into an unconscious grimace as she tossed left and right in her bed. The more she rolled, the more the duvet continued snaking heavily down off the side of the mattress. Incoherent mumbles and strangled groans escaped her lips.

"It can't be…" she protested softly, subliminally scrunching the sheets in her palms. Airies gave a final turn to her right and the doona slumped completely down to the floor beside the bed. Her bare feet grew cold in the air and consequently caused her eyelids to flicker open. She peered blearily around in the semi-darkness and exhaled a waking sigh as she propped herself up.

'_Another dream…'_ she thought wearily, tapping the fluorescent bedside light on. Dreams. Airies had them often. In fact, there had not once been a day in her life when she had not dreamt, whether during her sleeping hours or not. It annoyed her not that she got them so frequently, but instead that she had no idea _why_ she got them. And she knew, that because of the similarity between all of them, they weren't just arbitrary. They were always about the same individual. At first, Airies could have sworn that it was herself. But as the visions thickened, there were little factors that pointed otherwise. It was mystifying, and the more Airies dwelled on the dreams, the more they eluded her understanding. Her prior dream had been of photographs and foreign emotion attached to them as if paper-clipped.

Dismissing it as always, she pivoted and dangled her legs off the side of the bed, donning her slippers. It was dark, still, and nearing midnight but Airies rarely slept longer than she needed. She detested sleeping at night, besides, and found it was far more relaxing to rest in the late hours of the afternoon. Her favorite pastime, too, could only be enjoyed at nighttime at its fullest. Airies had a strange fetish for wandering about the steel corridors of her home in the dead of night. She loved the way her footsteps echoed in the hollow tubes and continued to reverberate until they reached the yawning abyss of the central plant room. And she loved the way the white lights were dotted consecutively along both sides of the corridors so they shone up the walls like incandescent fountains. Walking the halls at night had a certain eeriness about it that enticed Airies. And she never tired of it. In her seventeen years of living in this empty, dead ship with only her father, Airies had not yet walked all of its passages and rooms.

She strode forward to her dresser and snatched up her hairbrush. Her sunny, golden hair was one of the things that Airies took great pride in. It was a hazard to keep tidy, however. It was long, almost down to her waist, straight, silky and untamed. Her father often expressed his contempt that it was so long, and demanded that it be cut short. But Airies wouldn't comply. She wouldn't even hear of tying it up. She simply attacked it with a brush when it got knotty and refused to do anything more.

Airies was thankful that it wasn't too matted this time. She began automatically with the knots at the bottom of her hair and worked upwards, unmindful of the usual 'crunch' of the metal teeth ploughing through the strands. The dresser mirror stared nonchalantly into Airies' foggy eyes as she did her routine. As her hands did their work, Airies took the time to stare back, not indifferently. Perusing her glass twin, she ran her eyes up and down the soft, but angular features. Her chin, nose and brow seemed to discreetly stick out, though her forehead was sheathed behind a fringe of the messy golden hair.

The overall pigment of her face was very light. Her skin was almost unnaturally white since she had very rarely been exposed to the brutal glare of the twin suns. Had it not been for her frosty and cloudy green eyes, she could have easily been mistaken as albino. Airies gazed at her eyes. Not really into them, but around them. Around her left eye, to be precise. She heaved a tiny sigh, observing the thin raised line that cut down through her brow, over her eyelid and a little into her cheek. It was ironic in a harsh way that such a small scar caused so much grief to Airies.

She barely remembered the circumstances under which it had occurred but, eight years ago, her father had administered something terrible and, in a way, crippled Airies for life. She could not recall anything about what had happened that night. Only that Knives' outburst had been sparked by a question. Airies had been scolded for talking back to her father many times before, but never as severely as this. From nowhere, Knives had slashed her across the face and greatly disfigured her shoulder. Her clavicle and part of her shoulder blade had been shattered and her eye nicked through its lid. Though they miraculously healed somehow over the years, she was left with a visible upward curvature in her left shoulder and scarcely had the use of her left eye at all.

But the real non-healing wound for Airies was that a small piece of her had broken away and she was detached from her father. As though stranded on a tiny island, Airies was somewhere that her father wasn't and she could never reach him. His ship had sailed and with it the answers to Airies' questions. Of course, she had forgiven Knives long ago, but the fact remained that the bond between them would never be the same. They were forever tied together as family, but there would never be harmony between them.

Airies put down the brush and swept her hair behind her ears. Staring pensively into her reflection and its defection, she found herself wishing that, just once, Knives could show her genuine love.

"I only wish for my father's love," she whispered to herself. Not understanding why, she gave herself a sympathetic smile and padded towards the door. The air in the corridor outside Airies' room was cool, almost chilled, and she quickly hugged herself for warmth as little goose pimples rose on her skin. She drew a small yawn and began to scuff down the hall. The ship was peaceful, as always and only the gentle humming of the neon lights dammed complete silence. Airies glanced about her as she walked, expressionless but comforted by her solitude. She descended down several passages, a flight of stairs and then entered the only working elevator on the ship and continued her journey downwards, not exactly sure of her destination.

The sleeping-chambers, though empty, looked almost like tombs, Airies thought as the lift went smoothly down and the great chasm that had been a cryogenic freezer loomed upwards. Putting her fingertips against the glass wall of the cabin, she felt the ghostly coldness of the concave room seeping in. It puzzled Airies as to why the freezer was suddenly active, but then it struck her that maybe Knives was conducting one of his experiments. He had done this before of course; tampered with the ship's faculties and conducted 'research.' Airies had not an inkling as to what Knives was actually doing since she had been forbidden to ever enter the freezer. Nevertheless, it didn't bother her. She had no interest in what her father got up to in his spare time. Nor did she care to walk the midst of a catacomb. The further she was from a room that smelt and felt of death, the better.

On that note, she exited the elevator and proceeded down another steel corridor away from that room. It was slightly warmer in the lower divisions of the ship, due to the constant activity of the plants. Though today the warmth was slightly cancelled out by the cold that was percolating the air from the cold sleep room. Airies ignored the temperature, however, and carried on towards one of the plant rooms, her eyes scanning the lit walls as she went.

She perfunctorily entered a code into a keypad and the door beside it slid open with a mechanical whirr. A cloud of mist billowed out of the room as it did so. Stepping inside and shutting the door behind her, Airies gazed absently up at the bulb-like plant before her. She felt humbled at its size and the cool, meaningful glow it radiated while purring quietly. Striding leisurely across the floor donned with a large, white '2', she climbed up the steps toward the controls. Everything seemed to be in order, Airies registered as she monitored the plant's power levels. She punched in a few keys and observed earlier records. No malfunctions, no spontaneous drops in power and no activity from the being within; everything was normal as it always had been. It was as though the plant was dormant. Airies wondered why this was, as she had known plants to be relatively temperamental. She looked it vigilantly up and down and stepped closer, attempting to discern the sleeping angel in its confines. Though, beyond a few white outlines, it evaded her.

She was about to lay her hands on the glass, when the door skated suddenly open. Knives appeared at the threshold, expressionless, in his usual finery with his arms folded behind his back. Airies jerked back from the plant and gave her father a gaze of respect that would escort a salute. Knives dissected her with piercing eyes as he toed up the stairs towards her. Airies trod cagily backwards a little and a hush fell on the room.

"Good evening," Knives said finally, giving Airies a smile that looked sort of asphyxiated. Airies nodded in response.

"Evening," she murmured, subtly looking away. Knives glanced down at the plant console and regarded the power levels as Airies had done.

"I saw you come in here," he said with an air as though questioning of Airies' motives.

"I noticed the freezer was active," Airies replied with the same questioning tone, though trying to remain reposed. She fiddled with a button at her cuff.

"Yes. Well…" Knives tapped in a few keys on the console and avoided Airies' gaze.

"Well what?" she asked curiously.

"Well, if you must know," Knives said tetchily, flicking a toggle, "I'm readying the chambers."

"Readying? Why?" Airies was puzzled. What was the need of starting the freezer if there was nothing to occupy it? She suddenly felt a little stab in the pit of her stomach. "You're not going to freeze _me_ are you?" she asked reprovingly.

"Of course," Knives replied sardonically. "Don't be daft," he spat. Airies felt relieved.

"Then what are you doing it for?" she asked. Knives' eyes flashed about in thought.

"Well…" he began. "See…Airies, I have a task for you."

"A task?" Airies repeated wonderingly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that…it's time," Knives replied with a strange sort of distance and meaning in his voice.

"I don't understand. Time for what?" Airies was at a complete loss as to what her father was getting at. He wasn't making a shred of sense.

"It's time I explained a few things to you, Airies," Knives replied, looking her in the eye and putting his hand on her shoulder as if consolingly. "You know that you are a plant," he said.

"Ye-es," Airies accepted uncertainly.

"All your life you have had dreams," Knives went on.

"Yes," Airies reiterated. Knives inhaled deeply.

"The time has come for me to tell you that you have had those dreams because…" He sighed ruefully. "Because all your life, someone has attempted to infiltrate your mind," he said.

"Wh-what?" Airies gasped, gawping. "Why?" Questions raced mercilessly fast around her mind.

"We're plants. We are superior beings, Airies," Knives said authoritatively. "The humans…they want to use us. And they targeted you because you were young and easily..._manipulated_."

"I'm not!" Airies corrected quickly with indignation.

"No. You are older now and you are strong," Knives coincided.

"But why didn't you tell me you knew?" Airies demanded.

"Airies…" Knives said quietly. He stepped forward and gently put his arms around his daughter. "I had to protect you." Airies cringed a little at the stiffness of the hug. She couldn't fathom if there was love in this embrace or not. Her arms stayed limp at her sides and she did not return Knives' gesture.

"Airies," Knives repeated, "it's time for the human race to pay for what they have done to our kind." Airies nodded and suddenly felt a new emotion stirring in her. It was anger.

"Starting with the one who has tried so desperately to take you," Knives continued.

"Yes," Airies agreed.

"It's time for you to find them before they find you. This is your task. Find them and return them to me. I will make them pay for what they have tried to do to you," Knives growled, his voice intense.

"I will!" Airies exclaimed. "Now!" And with that, she sped from the plant room as though there were wings on her heels. Knives watched her go and smirked as he heard the pulley of the elevator clunk into motion.

Finally, he thought, after seventeen years of waiting and perfecting his masterpiece, his plan was in motion again. And all it took was a simple lie. Knives knew what Airies' dreams were _really_ about and why they occurred, but the fact of the matter was that Knives had deceived Airies the seventeen years of her life and he wasn't about to stop now. Not now that he was so close to achieving his goal. Soon, the humans _would_ pay. But before it was their turn, it would be Vash's.

'_You refuse to acknowledge me, brother,_' Knives thought heatedly. _'You refuse to acknowledge your own kind and you refuse to acknowledge your own identity._' He scowled at the images of Vash that his mind produced.

'_You are a plant, brother. But if you wish to be as human, you will be treated as human._'

Knives would have his revenge. He would cause Vash and his precious spiders eternal pain and suffering. And he would do it through Vash's own children. Knives ran a hand through his ice blonde, smiled to himself and subsequently burst into malignant laughter.

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The plot thickens! You know what to do. :3 


	15. Consequences

Author's Notes: I probably say this every chapter, but Gomen na! The reason for the lateness is that my computer died on me last week. .-. I promise I wasn't just being lazy! Anyways.. fairly soon, I'll be posting some artwork of Lavender and Airies on my Deviant Art page, since Wolferz has been demanding me to, just so you all know. So watch out for it, if you're interested! And now, onto the chapter! Enjoy. :3

;Standard disclaimer applies.

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**_Chapter fifteen: Consequences_**

Midmorning sunlight decanted into a hotel room through unfiltered windows and beat mercilessly down upon the room's ill occupant. Lavender made a feeble groan and turned over, away from the windows. She was experiencing, and deeply ruing, the vindictively unpleasant after-effects of too much alcohol. The sunrays continued to shine down upon her and, coupled with the unusually great heat of the morning, made little balls of sweat trickle over her face.

For Lavender, everything was anguish this morning. Every little sound stabbed and pounded on the inside of Lavender's head; from the creaking of the frail bedsprings in the mattress beneath her, to the upbeat chirping of little green birds outside. The blankets piled on top of her felt as though they were being set on fire by a giant magnifying glass that was augmenting the sunlight. Lavender's throat was parched and begged for moisture to soothe the sandpapery feel, as did her stomach beg to be nourished with food. To add to all these circumstances, the bed sheets, below and above her, annoyingly clung to her bare, sweaty legs as if they were magnetic.

Giving out a sigh, Lavender rubbed away her tears of sleep. She lay for another fifteen minutes or so, willing herself to get back to sleep, but found it was a wasted effort. The morning had spoken. It was time for Lavender to face the day, her sickness and her problems. The former two she didn't mind so much if it was possible to a) avoid heatstroke and b) be as inactive as boredom would permit. Her problems she could do without confronting. At least until she could heal and recover from the shock of finding out whom she really was. Or rather, who her father really was.

Lavender flipped her legs out over the side of the bed and gasped at the sudden thumping her head experienced, induced by the movement as though it was a punishment. She put her head in her palms and tried ignore the painful sensations rooted in her forehead and stomach. Though it was hard to think straight or be resourceful, Lavender decided that what she really needed right now was water. So when the pain died down a little, she stood, her legs like jelly, and trekked towards the bathroom. Twice her legs almost gave way underneath her, she felt so dizzy and nauseous, but she eventually made it in there.

Since there was nothing in the kin of a kitchen in her sparse hotel room, she would have to drink straight from the bathroom sink without a glass. Lavender flicked the tap on and inspected the water as it poured into the dinky basin. It seemed potable enough, despite a faint cloudiness. She shrugged (It wasn't going to get any cleaner, after all.) and scooped some up in her palm. After several rotations of the scoop-and-sip routine, Lavender began to tire and her thirst still wasn't satisfied.

She flopped down onto the bathroom throne and rested her legs for a moment, thinking. She would take a shower, she decided. The best way to receive as much water as possible. Since Lavender was feeling so weak and faint, she had half a mind not to undress and to just get in the shower fully clothed. But, recalling that she had no spare clothes, she dismissed the notion and slowly began undressed herself, careful not to disturb or increase the rhythmic pounding in her head.

Sitting on the tiles of the shower cubicle, with her knees in the margins of her arms, Lavender began to drift away from the steady pattering of the water on the floor and on her skin. Her mind wandered over the events of the past two days and she thought sullenly of how she had acted the previous night.

'_Maybe Syrell was right…_'

-

Syrell and Lavender were sitting quietly and morosely in the hub of a crowded bar. Drunken shouts and raucous laughter issued from the other occupants around them while the 'clink' of glass was heard throughout the smoky, dimly lit room, signifying that the inebriated were getting even drunker. Syrell was looking harassed and uncomfortable in the atmosphere, and failing to understand how Lavender had managed to drag him into this grungy bar in the first place. He sighed exasperatedly as Lavender took another draught of some cheap beer to her lips. Lavender downed the glass of the bitter, yeasty liquid in no time flat and belched.

"I can't believe it," she said tipsily, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Syrell gave a mumble in response.

"I just can't believe it!" Lavender reiterated, more loudly.

"Okay, Lavender," Syrell replied fervidly. Lavender shot him a look of disdain that was exaggerated by liquor. She huffed and tossed her nose into the air, grabbing one of the few bottles at the table that still had a little liquor left in it. Syrell sighed again as the beer precariously missed Lavender's schooner as she poured it. Lavender glanced down and righted the angle of the bottle nozzle. When the mug was full, she took it to her mouth and gulped it down eagerly. This routine went on for a while and Syrell just sat in silence, not dissenting. Not aloud, anyway.

"You know…I _really_ just _can't_ believe that my father is Vash _the_ Stampede!" she said with the air of those people around her that had drank one too many, put a little too much emphasis on random words. Syrell's eyes flashed furtively sideways at her.

"Then don't believe it," he said scathingly. It was difficult to tell whether Lavender ignored Syrell or whether his voice had just been lost in the chatter of the other bar patrons.

"Still," she began with a stupid grin. "I'm _free_ now! I'll _never_ have to see the bastard _again_!" She cheered and shook her drink about. Syrell balked as some of the beer sloshed over him.

"Listen," he demanded. "When are you gonna stop this?"

"Stop _what_?" Lavender responded into her mug.

"Lavender," Syrell began as calmly as he could. "I know you're angry with your dad—"

"Of _course_ I'm angry!" Lavender cut in, slamming her glass down on the table. Beer slopped out onto its surface as she did so. "The _bastard_ lied to me my _whole_ life!" She slapped her palm on the table drunkenly.

"I don't think you should be calling him that, Lavender," Syrell reproved.

"Why the hell _not_?" she demanded vociferously. "My parents—no, _parent_—anyway, those two lied to me _my_ whole life! My father is Vash the bloody _Stampede_ and I had no idea!"

"Keep your voice down," Syrell hissed. One or two people were glancing circumspectly over their shoulders at Lavender.

"No! I won't beee quiet! I woon't!" she slurred. "My dad is Vash the Stamp_eeee_de! He could've…God, he could've _killed_ meee!"

"He only slapped you, for goodness sake," Syrell corrected, sighing in derision.

"_Only_ slapped me?" Lavender said incredulously. "_ONLY_ SLAPPED ME? THE SH—" That was the last straw.

"Lavender!" Syrell barked. He was on his feet. "SHUT UP!" Lavender paused, taken aback.

"Okay, he hit you!" Syrell went on vehemently. "So what? We both saw that he immediately regretted it afterwards! He didn't mean it, and you know it!"

"He diiid…" Lavender protested weakly.

"You wouldn't even hear him out!" Syrell cut across her. "And you acted like a total cad! Ripping up the photo album like that was totally uncalled for! And you're still being a contrary little cow!" Lavender looked daggers at Syrell, opening and closing her mouth but not finding any opportunities to speak.

"Not to mention how irresponsible you're acting!" Syrell continued. "You ran away from your parents, you stole two thomas', and you made me leave New Miami with you so you could 'get out of that city with such bad memories'!" The whole bar was now silent and staring in awe at the pair.

"But you don't know how it _feels_!" Lavender pointed out after a moment of hush. Her eyes were glistening a little. "You don't know how it feels to be lied to _all_ your life!"

"Actually, Lavender," Syrell said more calmly. "I do. My parents never told me that I was adopted. I overheard them talking one night. And let me tell you, not once did I ever think about 'drowning my sorrows' or fleeing 'such a horrible city'!" Lavender went pink. Partly because she stood corrected and partly because she realized she had nothing to counter with.

"But…at least your parents were good to you," she argued pathetically.

"And yours weren't good to you?" Syrell spat. "I think you have the greatest parents a girl could ever hope for. Think of all the things that your father and mother have done for you! Too many!" Lavender blushed more brightly and scowled up at Syrell.

"Lavender," Syrell said quietly with an air of finality. "You're my best friend and I'm not gonna lie to you." He inhaled and stared sternly down at Lavender. "You are spoiled, irresponsible, melodramatic and a cow! You are completely ignoring the reason _why_ your parents lied to you!" At these remarks Lavender got furiously to her feet and looked livid at Syrell.

"AND WHAT REASON IS THAT?" she demanded, situating her hands on her hips and making a conscious effort to appear taller than her friend.

"ARE YOU THAT MUCH OF AN IDIOT? YOUR WHOLE LIFE, YOUR DAD HAS BEEN TRYING TO _PROTECT_ YOU!" With that, Syrell kicked his chair aside and stormed out of the bar. Lavender was left with mixed feelings and the gaze of the entire bar placed on her. She was stunned, angry and disbelieving and her eyes were glazed in deliberation.

She was about to sit down and take up her half-empty mug of beer when the scraping of chairs met her ears. Glancing around at the looks on the faces of the other customers, Lavender decided, with the little logic she had left, that it was best to scram before anyone pulled a firearm on her. Though having it known that she was Vash the Stampede's daughter might inspire fear in some people, Lavender knew that these people, since they had heard the entire conversation, weren't likely to run with tails between their legs. No, even a drunken idiot knew when it was time to make an exit. Especially when everyone knew you were helpless, inebriated and none other than a child of the legendary outlaw himself.

Their hands were at their holsters. Lavender mumbled something of an apology and quickly dashed out of the bar. A little or so later, she was hiding in another alley. After half an hour of crouching in the darkness and holding back the contents of her stomach, Lavender decided that the bar customers had not come after her. Perhaps they were smarter, or more scared, than Lavender had thought. Maybe smart wasn't the correct word, but Lavender didn't care. With no intention of making an exhibition of herself anywhere else in Septombre city, she made giddily to the nearest hotel and got herself a cheap room for the night. The first thing she did when she had clambered up the stairs and into the room was make for the toilet to empty her stomach.

-

'_Maybe Syrell was right,_' Lavender reflected, hugging her knees tighter. '_Maybe dad was just trying to protect me._' In spite of the fact that it was a good explanation for her father's irrational behavior over the years, Lavender didn't really feel like forgiving him. It just too difficult for her, right now, to come to terms with Vash's identity. And since it was proven that Milly wasn't Lavender's true mother, who was she really? Questions such as these roamed about Lavender's mind. Then she thought of Syrell and how she had unjustly yelled at him.

The tears came and Lavender just let them roll over her cheeks with the droplets of water. She just simply sat there, silently crying, missing her best friend and missing her pet cat and her guitar until the shower ran cold.

Lavender turned the shower knobs off tight and grabbed the only towel off of the rack on the wall. She dried herself, the starched fabric of the towel prickling her as she did so, and pulled her clothes back on. Noticing that her attire smelled greatly of liquor, Lavender rooted around in the cabinet above the sink just in case there happened to be a can of deodorant it its musty depths. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't any such a can but instead a box of aspirin. Lavender gratefully snatched it out and took two of the capsules. At least her headache would soon subside. Now it was only a matter of satisfying her hunger.

She would have liked to have stayed in the hotel room a little longer, even despite the overall frugality of it, but she had been told to depart by ten o'clock. So, pocketing the aspirin and tying her long hair with a strand of cotton that had frayed off of her jeans, Lavender took herself downstairs and thanked the hotel clerk. He nodded genially at her and waved as she exited.

The morning sunshine was somewhat more pleasant now that Lavender was recovering from her hangover. She soaked up the rays and breathed deep, standing in the middle of the street.

"Okay," she said authoritatively to herself. "Time for breakfast." She fumbled around in her pocket to see what she had left in the way of money. Not much more than twenty double dollars, she registered, pulling out a couple of notes and some loose change. Lavender suddenly detected that one of the notes in her hand was actually the photograph she had seized the other day. She separated it from the money and gazed into the brown image. There was certainly no doubt that the short woman was Lavender's mother. The resemblance was obvious.

Lavender examined her parents' expressions. Her father certainly looked happy. He was grinning a ridiculous grin but cuddling the woman in front of him.

'_He must have really loved her,' _Lavender thought._ 'I wonder what happened to her…_'

"There she is!" Lavender was suddenly jerked from her spell by a familiar voice. Her eyes shot up, meeting Syrell and Vash who were standing at the end of the street, their eyes on her. A single word crossed Lavender's thoughts as she instantaneously ran in the opposite direction: '_Crap._' The question of how her father had managed to get to Septombre city in such little time would have been posed to Lavender, had she not been so intent on escaping him.

She sprinted up and down streets, periodically turning to see how far behind her pursuers were. Lavender despaired, seeing that Vash was gaining ever closer on her each time she glanced over her shoulder. It was hopeless, she thought as she felt her energy seeping away with each stride. But she just couldn't face her father right now. She needed more time. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet.

Lavender suddenly halted. The sky above had, literally out of the blue, turned a disturbing shade of red. Vash and Syrell must have noticed it also, since they had ceased in their tracks also. Not that it was difficult to notice the sky suddenly look as though it would drip blood. Lavender underwent a sense of foreboding that writhed and twisted about her stomach for several agonizing moments before the ground beneath her began to pulsate. She didn't need to hear the horrified screams of the people around her; she took one look at the growing, angry light on the horizon and tore away from the city into the already fleeing herds of its residents—But the blast was advancing to quickly.

Lavender ducked down into the sand, praying that somehow the light would just pass over the top of her. Confused, frightened and still unwell, she passed out. The last thing she heard was her father's desperate voice, calling for her.

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-gasp- The climax. :0 ... It's review time, everybody. And I reinstate my crying threat. :D 


	16. Silver, Red and Black

Author's Rambles: This chappie is for Ryu and Ruru! Again. :3 And thank you, Reviewers! I didn't cry. :D No thank you to my computer. ;-;

;Standard disclaimer applies.

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**_Chapter sixteen: Silver, Red and Black_**

Airies unenthusiastically continued to trudge through thick sand. She hauled her left foot through the almost fluid sand and then proceeded with her right. After several hours of this monotonous routine, she was beginning to get a little bored and wondering why—what with the mass of lost technology that her home contained within its very walls—there wasn't a means of transport other than her own legs.

Before setting out, Airies had had to decide on where her aggressor was most likely to be. She concentrated on from which direction its voice seemed to be coming from, as if tracing the origins of a signal. Albeit not really understanding how she could pinpoint the assailant's location, she determined them to be somewhere Northwest of the ship. The nearest landmark in that direction, however, just happened to be a few thousand iles away.

'_Septombre couldn't be any further away, could it?_' Airies thought cynically, looking back over her shoulder. The ship had become little more than a gray speck in the sea of sand. Airies was surprised that she could still distinguish it at all. She put her gaze back in front of her. The view wasn't much different from any other direction she could put it in, but she didn't want to accidentally get sidetracked. In less than an hour her slight boredom had become utter tedium. It wasn't so much the walking that bothered her, but the monotony of the journey. Airies could walk for days on end when she tried, but she rather wished the scenery wasn't so dull. Perhaps it would have been okay if there was at least something to look at that wasn't yellow and absolutely everywhere. So, to keep herself from going insane with boredom, she occupied herself by thinking, languidly.

It seemed strange to Airies that a human with no special connection to her had been using some form of telepathy with her, her whole life. Especially since she had never known humans to have that kind of ability. Then again, Knives had never described humans to Airies in any other way than how evil and disgusting and worthless they were.

There were so many things that perplexed Airies about this situation. Like how similar the voice of her would-be attacker seemed. Or rather, how similar they seemed to be to her in general. And, confusing as those dreams had often been, somehow the individual didn't seem hostile, or even aware of Airies.

But then again, Airies considered, maybe she was reading too far into things, or too shallow. There were so many things to consider and something just didn't seem right, no matter what conclusion she came to. She supposed that all would be explained when she returned to Knives with her captive. At least Airies had killed some time mulling over the subject, though it hadn't done her mental state much good.

When she finally put the subject to rest, she noticed that the sand had thickened considerably and her feet only sunk into it a centimeter or two high. Airies smiled to herself, thankful she could finally have some reprieve. She sat herself down atop a dune and took a canteen of water out of her rucksack.

Inside the pack, there wasn't really much in the way of provisions. Since it would only be a two, maybe three at the most, day journey, and Airies, being a half-plant, was partly self-sufficient anyway so there wasn't really a need for a lot of food. There were just a few necessities. Water, needless to say, some rations, a sleeping bag and a stiletto-like knife, just on the off chance that she would need to defend herself.

Knives had explained that he would 'take care' of the city before Airies arrived, but advised that she equip herself just incase. So she did as her father said, as always.

Airies didn't really like weapons, but she liked confrontations even less so found it easiest oblige. She didn't really mind abiding by Knives. Sometimes he would seem unorthodox in his methods, but Airies would just humor him. When it came down to it, he did look after her, even though he wasn't always around. But that could be beneficial to her as well. Not always having a parent around had taught Airies some self-reliance.

This was a good trait to have, she thought, seeing as she was a plant. Knives often iterated how it was best not to trust anyone too much, or how even those closest to you could let you down at critical points in your life. So being self-reliant and sufficient was definitely a good thing, especially when it came to those critical points that Knives had talked about.

Airies still didn't quite understand what he meant by that term, but figured she would in time. This, after all, would be a turning point. Not just for her, but also for the whole planet; the termination of a species, to allow the greater to flourish. The eradication of the spiders so the butterflies could roam free without threat and not have their numbers dwindled away by them like dieing flickers of light.

Though Airies had never had much contact with humans, aside from the dreams, she was decided that they were a disease upon the planet that had to be remedied. They just seemed to be a constant annoyance to her father and Airies figured that once the humans were gone, she and Knives could live on in utter peace; the _Eden_ he so often spoke about.

So Airies was doing her part. She would begin the annihilation. And it would start with the one who so opposed her.

Downing her mouthful of satisfying water, Airies got up and continued on her trek. She went up the rest of the tall sand dune but when she proceeded down the other side, she precariously sunk into thick sand above her knee-level. An audible growl went through her teeth and she waited a moment before attempting to pull herself out of the liquid sand.

Airies grabbed her right thigh and lugged it up out of the sand, leaving her in an awkward position, half in the sand, half not. Next she grabbed her left and tried to pull it out. But with the effort she put into heaving it out, her right leg sunk back into the sand again. Airies groaned angrily out in frustration, standing with her knees prone with the sand and her fists clutched.

'_How annoying_,' she groused in her mind. She thought for a moment as to how she would get out of this predicament. If she couldn't walk on top of the sand, she weighed slowly, then she would have to walk through it. With some success, Airies swung her left side forward in and exaggerated walking movement then did the same with her right. She did this a couple more times then became unbalanced and fell gracelessly forward onto her face.

Letting out another painfully angry growl, Airies pushed herself up fervently and jerked her leg forward as if trying to knee the sand. Again she fell flat on her face. The tiny granules now stuck to her cheeks and mingled with sweat. Some of them roguishly found their way into her mouth. Airies sat up irritably, spitting them out and wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

Little droplets of sweat slipped down her face as she looked up at the sky. There were come cumuli above her and they were moving steadily away from the twin suns. She grimaced at this and could have screamed the situation was so unfair and frustrating. The sand confining her legs enveloped them in heat it had collected throughout the day while small waves of the heat drifted hazily up and made Airies' whole body weep with sweat. Within minutes, Airies knew she would be exhausted if she didn't do anything.

With all her effort, she desperately tried to thrust through the sand. But her legs wouldn't budge. It was as though there was some invisible tendril woven around her legs and clinging onto them for dear life. And, when she attempted to pull her legs out again, the lock seemed more real since she failed to free herself. And now something solid and very hot was blistering her foot even through her boots.

Tears of pain slightly welling at the sides of her eyes, Airies dug down into the sand and seized up whatever it was scorching her toes. She gasped at the heat emitted by it as it burned her fingers. She flinched her arm out of the sand and quickly dropped the mystery item, cradling her fingers. Reaching into her pack for the water canteen to soothe her burns, Airies suddenly registered that the item was a gun. Or rather, two guns.

Airies examined them with deep interest. They were both of the same make and, though Airies knew only a little about firearms, she knew that they were Colts. One of them was of faded silver and the other a charcoal black. They were both slightly corroded around the edges, the silver one more so than the black, as if they had been buried within the sand for a very long time.

It was understandable, though, that they had lain dormant here for so long because since where Airies was now, wasn't anywhere at all. It was just a wasteland, completely unusable for anything due to the unpredictable density of the sand. It hadn't always been like that, though. Once it had been an untouched plain of bedrock with patches of actual soil that were so fertile there had been a small oasis. No one knew what had happened to make it so uninhabitable. Although no one really knew it had existed.

Pulling out her canteen, Airies sloshed a little water over her swelling fingers and then some over the guns to cool them off. They both gave off small hisses accompanied by feathery clouds of steam that rose up as the water evaporated. Airies tested the metal. She picked up the silver gun and levelled it with her eyes. Scrutinizing it, she ran her fingers along the silver nozzle, over the barrel and the hammer until she was gripping it firmly in her hand, her index placed lightly on the trigger.

It felt odd in her hand, as if it were waiting to be fired. Airies somehow clicked the barrel open and observed the contents. A few bullet shells and some fine sand fell out but there were no shots left. Airies did the same with the second gun but found it had two unfired bullets. She took the pellet-like shots in her hands and felt a relief that they weren't warm in the slightest.

Not really knowing why she wanted to keep them, Airies placed the bullets and the twin guns into her rucksack. Perhaps, she thought, they would come in handy.

'_They do kinda look nice…_'

Now that the guns were no longer snagging her, she could haul herself up out of the sand. But as she lifted herself out onto firmer ground, something else came with her. A large piece of red cloth appeared coiled around Airies' ankle. The surprises just kept coming. Airies untangled herself from the cloth and drew it out of the sand fully. Unfurling the fabric, she saw it was a red trench coat, though a very unconventional one, seeing as there were no sleeves. It looked as if the previous owner's arm had been ripped off along with the right sleeve, while the left had never existed.

The coat, like the guns, looked as though it had been obscured within the sand for a long period of time. It had collected a lot of sand within its thick textile and was slightly brittle in some places. Airies shook the sand out of it.

'_Nice __colour…_' she thought. Shoving her arm in through the neck of the coat, she found that it was noticeably cooler. Grinning, she quickly threw off her jacket and jeans and then pulled on the scarlet coat. It fitted nicely and, even though it was still a little gritty with sand, Airies found it considerably comfortable. And it insulated her from the vicious heat. How convenient that it had she had just plucked it out of the sand.

Airies smiled benignly to herself. It even looked stylish on her a touch.

She shoved her former attire into her backpack and then strutted off on her way again to Septombre city.

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Well, another chapter and I'm wanting chocolate... But reviews will do! XD 


	17. A Blood Red Sky

Author's Rambles: My computer still dislikes me, thus it is a feat that I managed to post on time. And depending on the mood of this awful computer in future, I may take my time in posting the finishing chapters. Sorry, but that's just the way it is. x.x Anyway, the thankies for this chapter go to my _cat_! He loved me so much this week. ;3

Oh and, to Ruru and DaisyAnimeLuvr, thanks for the virtual choccies! XD

;Standard disclaimer applies.**_

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**_Chapter seventeen: A Blood Red Sky_**

A lonely breeze drifted shrilly through the carcass of Septombre city, carrying the cold, bitter scent of death in its wake. The breeze played through the ruins and about the skeletal remains of buildings until it came to the unconscious nostrils of one lucky enough to still have his life. The stale scent transmitted through the draft, coupled with some sand that it swept over the individual, caused him to stir.

Vash shifted drowsily for moment before he was jerked into consciousness by the sensations experienced by his sinuses. His nose was stinging, thus making his eyes water. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and, rubbing at his nose and eyes and wonderingly how long he had been passed out, glanced around. Instantaneously, his eyes went wide and he froze in horror at the carnage that had met his gaze.

All around him were the cold, grey corpses of the former citizens of Septombre. Some of them were so mutilated and crushed by fragments of the buildings that Vash felt physically sick looking at them. No matter where he set his gaze, there were dead bodies occupying the scene.

As he turned in all directions, hoping for some reprieve, his eyes caught a sight that caused hot tears to spew from them. There was a man lying on his back a few feet away. Vash had never seen the man before but it was the display of the man's eyes that caused him to burst out in scared sobs. They were open and stony and refracting the blood sky above ominously. And, turning again, he found that there were others' eyes the same.

Vash put his hands over his face and wept. He knew exactly who had caused such a loss of life; the only person who could. There was no doubt that this was Knives' doing. And now Vash blamed himself. He blamed himself for being so foolish and indecisive over his brother's fate, and for being so for over a century.

'_Rem…_' he moaned in his mind. '_Rem… Rem…'_ Vash let out a gasp.

"Raven!" he cried, leaping rapidly to his feet. He cast over the mass of bodies, praying desperately that Lavender wasn't among them.

"Lavender!" he called shakily. No response. "Lavender!" Vash tried again. He continued yelling her name for minutes on end, each call becoming more weak with worry than the last. Soon enough he was no longer conscious of doing it. Visions of Lavender's young face having become pale and lifeless flooded throughout Vash's mind and he had to wilfully banish them away.

"Lavender…" he croaked, his throat too tight with emotion. Perhaps, he thought, if he changed his position, he might find her. But he dared not venture further into the city. Not now that it was so choked with corpses. And if Lavender was one of those corpses, he found himself wishing not to find her at all.

'_Dead…_'

At that precise moment, Vash wished for nothing other than to slip away. The silent pain and sadness that transpired within the atmosphere of the now dead city and gory sky above, together with the loss of his daughter, caused Vash such grief that could only be described as a wish for death.

He just wanted to leave himself. To just let his body fall to the ground and enter a world he knew not of. In that world he knew he would find solace for his losses.

And it was at that same moment that it had suddenly hit Vash that all the people who had ever been close to him had left the earthly plane.

'Rem… Wolfwood… Meryl… Airies… Lavender…' 

They were all '…_gone_.' As gone as the human race would be in less than a single week.

Vash barely registered his knees connect with the ground or noticed his face becoming more and more sodden with salty tears. It was as though his entire world had come crashing down, wreathed in flame.

"Ghnnn…" was issued quietly and muffled from a form lying on his stomach a foot or so away. At that, all consciousness was returned to Vash. How could he have been so stupid, he thought? He reproved himself for despairing and felt his world re-ascend from its self-imposed demise. It all came flooding back in a wave of optimism. Milly—who had been left behind in New Miami. Lavender—she had to still be alive. Eden—that which Vash was still to help create in Rem's memory. And Knives…

"Ghnn…" Syrell grumbled again. Vash darted down to his side.

"Syrell? Can you hear me?" he asked, gently rocking Syrell's shoulders and receiving an incoherent grunt response. Though somewhat disorientated, Syrell was gradually brought to his senses and lifted himself up.

"Eriks," he said simply, his look completely blank.

"Syrell, are you okay?" Vash asked thoughtfully. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I don't think so—" Syrell had glanced around at the scene he was in. Comprehension had dawned on his face like a bulb suddenly flicked on in darkness. "Oh god…" he breathed.

Vash knew that a sight such as this, so filled with death, would become a scar for one as young as Syrell. That wasn't a fair thing to place on his shoulders. Until Syrell was safe, he was Vash's responsibility. Thus, Vash's mind was made to get him away from this place not a second after he had found his daughter.

"I've got to find Lavender," Vash said quietly, getting to his feet. "Stay here and don't look around," he instructed. Syrell shook his head and stood up beside Vash, a firm but timid look in his azure eyes.

"I'll help you find her," he said. Vash gave him a look of disincentive but Syrell wouldn't heed it.

"It'll be quicker this way," he pointed out. Vash considered a moment then gave a small nod. He wasn't about to argue over the matter of speed, let alone argue at all. It was Syrell's choice. And he was right; they would find Lavender a lot sooner if they worked together.

Pushing past Syrell, Vash suppressed the lemon-sized lump in his throat and allowed his feet to pick their way through the mass of destruction while his eyes did the same, scanning over the faces of the dead. Unpleasant as it was, Vash continued his way through the small respites of debris. He had to hold on to the fact that Lavender was indeed somewhere within the ruins of this city and at the same time he had to believe that she was alive.

He could hear Syrell making his way through the mess as well, somewhat more quietly, and dared not to imagine what thoughts were happening in his young mind. Minutes crept by and still nothing. The silence ensued. By now, Vash could barely tell one face from another.

"Eriks," Syrell finally called. Vash rounded, his face a blend of fear, expectancy and relief. Syrell beckoned and Vash carefully trotted over, his breath baited. At a thought, his throat tightened. Judging by the look on Syrell's face, Vash half-expected to find Lavender crushed by a stray portion of a nearby building. But there was nothing. Only a small acquittal bodies and ruins, just a circle of sand.

"What?" Vash asked blatantly.

"Someone lay here," Syrell stated. Vash glanced down to where Syrell was pointing and saw that he was right. There was a large depression in the sand, shaped as if someone had lain in it. Syrell had a good eye, Vash thought

"And there," Syrell said, motioning to other small dips in the sand. "Footprints. And they look about Lavender's size." Vash bent down next to the basin of sand and examined the prints. There was something odd about the way they were placed. Syrell looked out across the ruined city.

"She must have gone into the desert," he said, discerning a direct line of the footprints. Vash was silent a moment or two then felt a torrent of dread sweep over him, like a sandstorm, at the realization.

"No," he murmured, picking himself up. "Look at the way she stood here." He gestured. "The angles are wrong. And her feet are too far apart." Syrell scrutinized the sand.

"I guess so," he said, though he looked skeptical.

"And look." Vash pointed out at the trail with a slightly shaky finger. "Do you notice that there are two sets of tracks?" Syrell squinted.

"Hey, you're right," he exclaimed. "But what does that mean?" Vash swallowed.

"She didn't get up," he uttered after several moments' hiatus. "Someone took her."

-

A hint of a wicked sort of smile curled about Airies' lips as she stood atop a sand dune, her new attire billowing in the breeze, surveying the wreckage and debris that was Septombre city.

'_Dad sure took care of them alright,_' she mused as she allowed herself to glide effortlessly down the dune. She strolled into the midst of the city and allowed her eyes to absorb the scene.

Though never having witnessed death, the sight did not perturb Airies. The bodies of the dead were scattered even beneath her feet but she wasn't alarmed. On the contrary, she almost felt at home amid the carnage, although, she had yet to think why.

She paused a moment and inhaled, admitting the tang of death into her nostrils. Then she realized that it was the same scent she often noticed seeping from the great freezer. It was the smell of the process of decay beginning; a sickly sweet aroma like blood mixed with wine, much now the colour of the sky above.

Airies shrugged the odor off indifferently. It didn't please or displease her, she was just used to it. So, stepping between the corpses, she continued through the remains of the city, occasionally glancing about for any sign of life among the deceased townspeople, though there was no such activity.

'_Perhaps dad took care of them a little _too _well,_' she thought wryly. Suddenly she had a small flash of recall and something within her was made slightly conscious. Something of a past disagreement between Airies and her father came into her able memory and a few blurry images and some words went through her mind in a dreamlike, nonsensical miasma. Her attention was caught by a younger version of herself saying something about humans. She distinguished three words, '…right to kill…' and then suddenly the metaphoric movie screen of her memories switched onto Knives' severe outburst of eight years ago.

The images were vivid and flowing, divergent to the grainy, faltering ones she had just witnessed. The agony of the blade contacting with her eye replayed in Airies' mind and she barely noticed her hand fly up and envelop the left side of her face, protecting it. She promptly put the imagery out of her mind, not wanting the sore memory to persist.

Septombre returned with bitter emptiness and Airies pressed on, a little shakily. Yet, not more than a few steps onward she heard a small grunt come from a body beside her.

She turned, her eyes roaming over the unconscious form of a teenage girl. She dissected the aura emanating from this person and moved closer. Bearing down over the girl, Airies nudged her with her foot then kicked her over. Being raised by Knives, Airies didn't really know much of civility.

The girl gave a subconscious cringe and a groan and Airies perused her features with great interest. She seemed roughly about her age and appeared somewhat similar to Airies. Her hair was long and as sleek as glass; like Airies', only slightly wavy and ebony in colour. Her nose, chin and cheeks were defined, yet soft. She also had a similar sort of build to Airies', although her height was slightly diminished for the average teenager.

Airies continued looking her over and, though her senses told her otherwise, she didn't think this was the human she was looking for.

'_She couldn't be the one.'_

How could a girl of her own age have communicated with her during her entire life? Even as a child. People just don't have those kinds of telepathic abilities as children, Airies reasoned.

Though admitting that she was likely to be the only one still alive, Airies stomped away from the black-haired girl and rooted through the rest of the city, steering clear of the area in which she had found the aforesaid human. She must have searched the corpse littered town three times over, but still there was no other compatible, let alone alive, human being with the aura Airies received when was subject to her mind being probed.

Grudgingly acquiescing to the fact that the girl was the only one able to be her quarry, Airies made way back to the North end of the city. Standing again over the lanky teenager, her eyes glowed icily with silent malice and annoyance at the arbitrary circumstances. Airies knelt down, grabbed the female around the middle and hefted her onto her back.

'_I swear it,_' she griped to herself, as she proceeded out of the city in the direction of her home, _'it doesn't make any sense._'

* * *

Well I assure you all that the next chapter is going to be quite exciting. :D And it'll come all the more quicker if you Review and give me my weekly inspiration! XD 


	18. Supernatural

Author's Apologies: No, this fic was not abandoned! GOMEN NA, EVERYONE. x0 Yeah, I'm sorry it took.. how many weeks to post this chapter? .-. Too many. But wouldn't you know it, I have been practically computerless since I last posted. My 'puter decided to conk the day after I posted chapter seventeen. Not that I'm trying to excuse myself for not posting. x.x But thass what happened.

And, I know I promised this chapter to be exciting, but I guess it didn't really turn out that way.. .-. Sorry for that, too. It will be better next time! XD But I hope you all enjoy this chapter, anyway. :3 And guess what! I've hidden two manga references somewhere within this chapter and I'll hand out virtual Christmas presents to those who find them. :3 Happy hunting.

;standard disclaimer applies.

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**_Chapter eighteen: Supernatural_**

Amber morning sunlight crept into the streets and houses of New Miami with a warming caress. A peachy glow seeped in through Milly Thompson's eyelids and she woke with a carefree smile. She sat upright and yawned, stretching the sleep out of her limbs.

'_I wonder if Lavender and Mister Vash are back yet_,' she thought, throwing the white duvet off and hopping with morning enthusiasm out of bed. Vash and Lavender had been absent for nearly two days now and it would have disconcerted Milly, had she not remained her optimistic self. She had, of course, volunteered to follow Vash to Septombre city to help find Lavender, but Vash had insisted that she look after the house. In any case, he assured her that he wouldn't be gone more than a few days.

Milly padded out into the sitting room and peeked furtively in through Vash's bedroom doorway, in search of any inhabitants. There were none and there were no signs of there having been any since the day before. It was exactly as Milly had left it—dusted, clean and lonely. She suppressed a sigh and slid open the tartan curtains, though little light entered. Vash's room was unquestionably the least atmospheric in the house.

Though it was unlikely for Vash's daughter to be home if he wasn't, Milly went up the marble staircase just on the off chance that Lavender would be home. She wasn't, however, and Milly's heart sunk lower than her prediction should have allowed. She put herself down on the edge of the landing outside Lavender's room and let out a little sigh, cupping her chin in her hands.

"Oh dear…" she sighed again. Milly sat morosely for a several minutes, swaying gently and nibbling at her nails, then, quite suddenly, leapt up like a cat.

"Mister Vash and Lavender will be back _tomorrow_ morning!" she told herself, throwing off her momentary despair and replacing it with her smile. With that, she took herself down stairs and proceeded to make her breakfast. But she had only just started percolating a jug of water for her tea when she heard the rustle of paper as today's newspaper was slapped down outside the front door.

"Thank you!" she waved at the paperboy through the window. He trilled her back a response from his bicycle bell. Milly smiled broadly to herself and went to the door, opening it and seizing up the newspaper. It was not the fact that she ever read the paper that she picked it up each morning, but it was more an undying habit to do so since Meryl had always liked reading the paper in the mornings. Milly was only too obliged to get it for her. And after her untimely passing, Vash had taken it on himself as a subconscious act of commiseration to read the paper in Meryl's stead.

Milly delighted in the pinkish morning sunlight for a moment before capering back into the kitchen. She poured her tea and cereal then sat at the breakfast table. Munching noisily on a mouthful of cornflakes, she flattened the paper out across the table just to sate her curiosity. She thought, after all, why not?

'THE SEPTOMBRE MASSACRE,' the print shouted. Milly went rigid, her spoon slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor with a clatter amid its spoonful of milk and flakes.

"Oh no!" Milly breathed, frantically grabbing up the paper and proceeding to read the article as fast as her pace would allow, her brow pleating in deeper worry with each line she scanned.

'_Passengers and crew on the Espoera-to-Septombre caravan were yesterday horror-struck at finding the entire population of Septombre city dead in the streets. Though the proper authorities were notified of this calamity almost immediately, it has not yet been established what destroyed the city. There has been extensive destruction of buildings and rubble blocks all major roadways. The entire city is now closed off as a potential danger-zone to all except those investigating the causes. Plant engineers and specialists are postulating that the destruction of the city was a result of a repercussion of a _last run_. However, civil authorities are keen to provide reassurances that the cause lies elsewhere, citing the fact that it has been some months since a _last run _was performed. They also point out the significant fact that none of Septombre's plants have been at all damaged and, according to the logbook that was still somewhat legible, remain in the same condition since last their maintenance check. Owing to these facts, the possibilities of the use of explosives or weapons of mass destruction or seismic activity have been ruled right out. It is likely that this disaster will be classified as an incident involving _Vash the Stampede_.'_

Without further ado Milly abandoned her breakfast, dressed, swiftly packed a suitcase and sprinted out of the house and down the road to the nearest bus stop, in her haste having forgotten to remove one of her slippers and lock the front door behind her.

"One ticket to Septombre city!" she declaimed to the driver of the first bus that pulled in, her voice catching on her constricting throat.

"I'm sorry, young missy," the man said in a firm but sympathetic tone, "but this bus doesn't go anywhere beyond the Miami route. And…" he continued gently, "haven't you heard?"

"Septombre city, _please_!" Milly restated emphatically. Her eyes were brimming and her form shaking.

"It's off limits," the driver said plainly, clearly a little irritated at Milly's perseverance.

"This is urgent!" Milly cried and her hands flew up to her face. The driver eyed her empathetically for a moment then sighed and shook his head.

"On you get, then, missy." Milly nearly hugged him.

-

Syrell gave out a small rasp, a subliminal plea for water, though he continued trudging through the sand, his breaths coming in sighs of near-exhaustion. His arms dangled heavily at his sides and his head was hung, his sweaty neck offered to the moonlight. If it had been any other time of day, Syrell was certain he could have collapsed into the sand and died of intense heatstroke. The painful length of the trek so far was more than enough—he didn't need the severe heat of the twin suns to exacerbate it.

He swallowed, hoping that what little moisture was left in his mouth was enough to nullify the sting at the back of his throat—It wasn't.

Sighing loudly, Syrell looked up and sideways. He was somewhat amazed to see that he was still flanking Vash, who looked no less focused than any number of hours ago. Annoyance quickly replaced the surprise; annoyance that Vash hadn't noticed, or was coldly ignoring, the obvious signs of distress that Syrell was giving out.

"Mister Eriks," Syrell said suddenly.

"Mm?" Vash grunted in response, not taking his eyes off of the horizon.

"I think we should go back," Syrell stated.

"To what?" Vash replied, giving the indication that he was not about to return to the city they had left rotting.

"Civilization, maybe," Syrell offered. So far he had managed to keep the bother from his voice, but now he was getting a little impatient. "Listen, if we just continue on like this, we're going to die."

"We're not going to die," Vash said firmly.

"Eriks," Syrell said gently, "we have no water, no food, nothing but the clothes on our backs. There is absolutely nothing in this direction, for iles and iles, except for sand dunes. And when morning comes, we will have the sunstroke to deal with. I don't like to be a pessimist," he added, "but it appears to me that there is a good possibility that we will die." There was a long hiatus.

"We're not going to die," Vash reiterated. "I know what I'm doing." Syrell sighed plaintively at Vash's irrationality and proceeded in front of his way. Vash stopped and looked down at Syrell through his clear, moon glasses.

"Mister Eriks," Syrell said authoritatively.

"It's Vash."

"Right… Mister Vash, I know you'll contradict me if I say I understand how much your daughter means to you," Syrell began, "but even so, I really think it's urgent that we turn back. At least we could get some supplies and a jeep or something in Septombre then continue on again."

"If we did that, we'd lose the trail," Vash pointed out.

"We lost the trail hours ago!" Syrell groaned. Vash looked away for a moment then back at Syrell, a meaningful expression written on his face.

"Syrell, I'm sorry I got so angry with both you and Lavender," he confessed. Syrell nodded.

"It's okay," he accepted.

"And I'm sorry you had to see," Vash paused, "what you saw in Septombre. And I'm sorry I'm putting you through all this."

"You didn't ask me to come," Syrell pointed out.

"Well…that's true," Vash conceded. "But you are somewhat my responsibility. And I know you don't believe me when I say that we're not going to die, but you've just gotta trust me on this," he went on pleadingly. Syrell deliberated for a minute.

"Well…Okay," he said quietly.

"Thank you. You must know that Lavender is the most important person in the world to me."

"Yeah, I understand."

Having said what was needed, Vash stepped around Syrell and ambled on through the dark sand, deliberately keeping a slow pace for Syrell's respite. Syrell followed and sided Vash again, wondering how Vash had so easily convinced him.

With each step, Syrell exerted himself as little as possible, considerate of his remaining energy.

"And don't worry," Vash suddenly spoke out. He turned to Syrell with a sanguine grin on his face. "I _think _I know where we're going."

"Boy," said Syrell disdainfully, "that's encouraging." He laughed.

-

Lavender's mind was disorientated in its unconscious body. She rolled a little and her brain subliminally pounced on questioning why whatever it was she was lying on was so cold. She continued sleeping, however. Though, rolling over again, Lavender had shifted into a particularly tight position and something in her leg began to spasm. Her eyes promptly snapped open and her hands flew down to her shin, grasping at the painfully contracting muscles. She moaned through gritted teeth, willing the pain to stop.

After several long minutes of pain, however, the nauseating ache died down to a duller throb. Lavender loosened her grip on her leg, panting a little, and eased her eyes open again, having shut them tight with the brunt of the pain. She gazed around, her pupils adjusting to the gloom, and saw she was in a small chamber. Grey steel met her on all sides and the only light in the room emanated from a giant bulb-shaped tank centered on a high dais behind her.

'_A plant_,' Lavender realized. The plant hummed ever so quietly, as though it were nearing inactivity. The brightness of the light it was emitting, however, proved that it was very much alive. Lavender stared up at it in awe, never having seen one so close, almost making out some form amid the swirling pearly white. An eerie kind of feeling began to course her as she stared up into the glow. It felt ominously as though there were eyes on her.

She quickly pushed that feeling aside, not daring to glance behind her, should there have truly been someone watching her from out of the shadows. Lavender revered the plant once more, but found it not helping to calm the sense that she was not alone in this chamber. On the contrary, the plant seemed to have a strange sort of consciousness of its own. Perhaps it was focusing on Lavender even now, she supposed.

'_The plant is not looking at me! That's just crazy!'_ Lavender reprimanded herself, glancing up and away from the plant. She stared at the ceiling, finding it somewhat difficult to make out. What the room lacked in perimeter, it made up for in height.

'_What am I doing in here anyway? How'd I get in here?_' The thought had only just occurred to Lavender. '_Where is here?_' She sat futilely questioning herself for minutes on end before the entire reality of the situation came down on her like gravity.

'_Dad… Where is dad? What happened to dad and Syrell?_' In shock, she digested the question and waited as though for an answer. '_Maybe they're…Maybe I'm…_' Lavender gasped at the thought._ 'Dead?_'

Suddenly she veered round, having perceived a shifting noise from behind. There was nothing. Shadow still consumed the walls. But for a split second, Lavender could have sworn that she saw two glowing orbs peering from out of the shade. Perhaps it could have only been the light imprinted on her eyes from having gawked at the plant so long, but Lavender's senses were heightened so much that even the tiniest noise, even the shifting of her own feet, seemed the like the spine-chilling whisper of a specter; every ray of light was the glint off of an otherworldly blade about to swing down on her. The very walls seemed to close in on her.

Lavender's breath grew thin as another tiny noise was issued from the darkness. Panic-stricken, she glanced from side to side, desperately looking for an escape. None presented themselves to her. There was only the staircase leading up to the plant. As ill omened as the plant seemed, light was certainly a better preference to darkness, as was the higher ground to where Lavender was standing.

Though shaking like a leaf, she made for the stairs and raced up them as fast as her legs allowed—perhaps faster, since her leg instigated again to spasm. Her left leg buckled beneath her and her knee hit the platform hard. Lavender bit back a scream, though not because of the cramp in her leg, but because she had precariously fallen backwards onto her other leg. A loud crack was issued and Lavender's ankle felt as if it were on fire, the pain was so great.

She could take it no longer. Hot tears ran in rivulets over Lavender's cheeks and she cried out in fear and pain, hunching up on the metal platform, clutching at both her legs.

"Daddy, where are you?" she wept loudly.

Lavender had hardly let out the force of her pain through her tears when suddenly she was grabbed at the shoulder from behind. She was turned and could not help but shriek at the ghostly face that met her.

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Ohmahgah, who could it be? Review and find out. :D Have a Happy Christmas, everyone! XD 


	19. Blade

Author's Notes: Hello again! No, I'm not dead! ;D Not yet, anyway. XD I probably apologize every chapter, but I'm sorry it took me a whole six months to update. Alot has happened since last update, yes it has. o.o

Anyway, I believe I have a present to give out! To ReadingWhiz89, Ruru, I give a very late Christmas present because she found a manga reference in the previous chapter. The 'last run' was the reference, I believe. Well done for spotting it, Ru. I present you with the honorary Stick of Justice, courtesy of the Official Beating-Knives-With-A-Stick Association. May you give many a good whack.

And now, may I just say, that I _do_ intend to finish this fic! Even if it takes me five years, I'm gonna finish it! I will never abandon this fic.

Please cheer for me now. XDD

;standard disclaimer still applies.

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**_Chapter nineteen: Blade_**

Airies quietly sat in the shadows of the hushed plant room, bored and uncomfortable. It had been nearly a week since she had returned with her oblivious captive, and in that time no event of the slightest interest had occurred. Airies had not even seen Knives, though it was evident that he was still around. His continued "experiments" could be heard, if faintly, from most reaches of the ship and he had buzzed Airies once or twice on the intercoms since her arrival. So, apart from the occasional rumbles issuing from the freezer, very little happened. Their raven-haired guest had hardly even moved, let alone awoken, and Airies was tiring of watching her, as ordered by her father.

The prone, limp captive lay only a few feet from Airies, in little a different position than when she had been roughly dumped there. Airies' eyes had long since drifted away from the girl, now focusing on the quietly awe-inspiring plant. Grimacing, she shifted her weight onto a less numb portion of her backside. A small noised issued from her stomach, a longing grumble. It was not surprising that she now needed something to eat, despite being a plant, for she hadn't eaten for nearly a week and half.

Airies picked herself up and glanced at the sleeping captive. It wouldn't hurt to leave for a moment or two, she supposed.

'_Guess it's important to stay alive_.' At that thought, she chuckled a cold, quiet laugh to herself and stepped out of the shadows. As she made for the door, however, a strangled moan met her ears from behind. She veered round, her eyes narrowing, and saw that the captive female had awoken. Airies snapped deftly back into the black shade and watched as the girl writhed on the floor, clutching her at her leg. She gathered that a leg cramp must have roused the girl, and a very painful one at that, but she seemed not to have yet noticed Airies.

The teenager squirmed about on the floor in pain for a few minutes longer, but, having recovered, she began to absorb her surroundings. It clearly puzzled her. One could say it even alarmed her, for she glanced apprehensively back and forth between the walls for several moments. Then she registered the immense plant standing behind her in mint grandeur. She turned to it and it consumed her attention for minutes on end.

Though the consciousness of the captive was a new advancement, Airies soon grew very much bored of watching the girl ogle the plant. She shifted again, purposefully noisily to stir up the female before her in fear, or even confusion—anything for Airies to amuse herself with. This produced the effect that Airies had wanted, albeit it was only a minor startling on the girl's part. Thus, Airies wasn't entirely satisfied.

She grinned maliciously and clicked her fingers. Her prisoner snapped to attention and stared directly at where the noise had issued from, though not discerning Airies for the black shroud around her. Airies eyes flashed and glowed with nasty glee at the intense fear in the young female's eyes. She could _hear_ the heavy breathing, even from such a distance. The girl was undoubtedly and dreadfully afraid. She glanced from side to side in a panic and Airies let a small giggle escape her lips as she watched the poor creature scamper unsteadily up the stairs onto the high ground of the plant's control platform. She must have put a foot wrong and tripped or knotted her feet or something precarious because in a moment, she was on the floor again and rolling about in immense pain.

Screams and cries filled the chamber and Airies felt a clash at her conscience. She hadn't meant to cause anguish to the girl, failing whether this prisoner happened to be against her or not.

"Daddy, where are you?" the human wept out. Airies froze at the mention of a father figure, but almost instantaneously pushed the concept away and shook herself into action. She walked forward and out of the haven of the shadows, not at a terribly fast pace, and ascended the stairs to the prisoner. The human quivered and writhed before her, helpless and oblivious to Airies' presence, and Airies blanched, wondering whether this was indeed the person whom had been contacting her throughout her life. There was only one way she would know.

-

_Lavender had hardly let out the force of her pain through her tears when suddenly she was grabbed at the shoulder from behind. She was turned and could not help but shriek at the ghostly face that met her._

"AHHHHHHHH!" she yelped, helped by her tears, as she stared into the blurry, ghostly visage of her father. But it was not Vash.

"Stop it," the person ordered quietly. Lavender kicked out at the—what she supposed it was—apparition. Failing to even connect with the individual in question, however, Lavender's ankle twisted even more out of shape. She shrieked out again, though this time more in shock than fear or pain, for she hadn't yet realized that there was no longer any pain stemming from her ankle. In effect, she felt nothing from her ankle at all anymore. She screamed on, however, mostly unintelligible phrases concerning her father being prominent in her wails.

"Stop it!" they ordered again, this time more firmly. They were now grasping Lavender resolute at both shoulders. Lavender flailed out once more, but fell short and complied to the being in front of her, quieting down to small sobs.

The room grew gradually more and more muted as Lavender's sobs became tiny hiccups and then the hiccups to sniffs. For the first time, wiping her aching eyes, Lavender dared to steal a glance at the one still pinioning her by the shoulders. It was a girl, and of Lavender's own age. Feeling surer of herself, she turned and faced the opposing teenager head on, observing her. She had remarkably long, gold-blonde hair and light teal eyes, and an angular face—an appearance not unlike that of Lavender's father. Thus, Lavender suddenly realized how she had mistaken this individual to be Vash. This girl was strangely pale, though. She looked sort of "washed out", as if she had never seen the light of the twin suns. There was something oddly familiar about her, though, other than her resemblance to Vash.

Neither of them moved, much less spoke, their constant breathing the only apparent sound in the room. They simply stared into one another's eyes, turquoise boring, _assaulting_, into lilac. Lavender spoke first.

"Who…" she stuttered. "Who are you?" she asked in a would-be firm voice. The girl just stared, her teal eyes fixed in a glare. Lavender felt uncomfortable under her gaze, but more so angry that the girl had failed to answer her question.

"What's your name?" Lavender pressed. Again, she received no reply. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she teased. Her captor hissed, and then slowly her mouth curled into a toxic smirk. Lavender's insides squirmed and she wished that the girl would release her.

"My name is Airies," the girl finally replied. An odd (misplaced, Lavender thought) tone of surprise was present in her voice.

Doing her best at attempting to appear tough, Lavender cocked a brow.

"Airies?" she said emphatically, as if studying the name. "What kind of a name is that?" she mocked, plastering a smirk to her face. She immediately wished she hadn't. Airies offered her a powerful frosty glare, her fingernails tightening uncomfortably around her captive's shoulders.

"Let me go," Lavender said quietly through gritted teeth. It wasn't a request. Seemingly offended, Airies' face contorted and scrunched up crookedly in anger. Her grip tautened again, her fingers looking to pierce through Lavender's clothes and cut her raw to the bone.

"Let go of me!" Lavender ordered again, irate. Airies bared her angular teeth menacingly and—despite Knives orders not to harm the individual—thrust Lavender down on the steel, hard. Lavender squealed, pinioned again, and shoved her hands frantically up at Airies' face in an attempt to free herself.

"You have no idea how much I _hate_ you!" Airies choked down at Lavender in a seething whisper, her voice dripping with sincere loathing. Lavender's brow creased in irritated bewilderment as she struggled. Who on earth was this girl?

"You don't even know me!" she rowed, striking Airies across the cheek defensively, her nails leaving an elongated scratch and stinging pink raises. Airies howled in ire rather than in pain, returning Lavender's nick with a great punch. Lavender yelled out, feeling her cheek being contused and bleeding within. With her able foot she jerked out and threw her offender off, and with a firm slap in the process. Airies landed hard against the metal railing, winded, her eyes wide, glazing, and smoldering with hatred.

"What do you want with me!" Lavender screamed out in demand, scuttling back as fast as she was able without injuring herself. Airies grinned wickedly, but her eyes were hard and set.

"Shouldn't I be asking that question?" she spat scathingly, folding her arms gingerly over her throbbing stomach.

"What are you talking about?" Lavender moaned, the utter confusion and alarm evident in her tone. "You don't make any sense!"

"No, _you_ make no sense!" Airies bellowed back accusingly. "You and all humans! You kill anything and everything that gets in your way just so your pathetic existence can carry on!"

Lavender was taken aback at the harshness of the girl in front of her and her ominous words. Airies waited for Lavender to speak, her breath heavy and fast with fury and indignation.

"But," she went on, her voice lowered and severe, "your inferior race won't plague mine any longer." Lavender, thoroughly vexed, opened her mouth to question.

"_You_ won't plague _me_ any longer!" Airies roared, pointing vehemently at Lavender with an accusing forefinger. "For seventeen years—my whole life—you've tried to use me!" she raged on. "You thought you could penetrate my very _mind_! And just to get to my kind!" Airies stood, giving Lavender a look that could cremate. She let out a colossal howl and Lavender's hands flew up over her ears. "NO MORE!" Airies shouted.

"STOP IT!" Lavender retorted, throwing her arms out in protest to Airies' brutal accusations. "STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!" she screamed. Airies took a step back from the raucous girl, quiet, but her expression written with no less severity.

There was a pregnant hush, in which only Lavender's panting prevented utter silence. After a minute or so, having let the atmosphere cool a little, Lavender grasped a hold of the platform railing and slowly hauled herself up in an attempt to match her opposing side. She stood gingerly, putting her weight on her able foot. She wobbled precariously a moment, but kept a firm face.

Airies, her brows knit, looked quizzically at Lavender for her apparent weakness. She watched as Lavender steadied herself on the railing. Lavender gazed steadfastly into Airies' visage.

"What the hell are you on about?" she posed, shaking her head in disbelief. Airies jerked her head back in bewilderment. Silence ensued for turbulent minutes. Lavender simply stared with her firm, questioning eyes. Airies' turquoise orbs scrutinized her, darting in a manic pace from Lavender's face down to her feet and back up again.

"I asked you—" Lavender began.

"Don't play dumb with me," Airies growled contemptuously, seething. "No more games!" she hollered, jolting forward and roughly tackling the shocked Lavender over in a split second.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU AND ALL YOUR KIND!" There were no words that Airies could sum up to describe her emotion. No phrase that could understand the raw hate that brewed inside of her for the disease that was mankind. The very emotion permeated her being and made her skin literally tingle.

She seized and clutched at Lavender's delicate human throat and squeezed the very moisture from her pale skin. Airies then raised her other arm to attack and—it was beyond her power to explain why or to care, but—began to feel it pulsating.

Lavender barely registered anything. Her consciousness was all a blur. She felt herself clutching feebly at Airies' wrist, her throat protesting and her lungs begging for air. She looked up at Airies through her glazed, brimming eyes and simply stared, her mouth falling open in awe at the sight of Airies' arm. Even if she had been able, she wouldn't have even breathed.

Airies' face contorted in pain at the cruel, foreign sting of the alterations now beginning to occur in her suspended arm. Blinding white light began to stem from it, and she and Lavender both screwed up their eyes.

Then Airies gasped as an extreme amount of raw and uncontrollable power began to surge through her living being, and she quickly forgot about the girl pinned down beneath her. She could feel what she only thought were soft, downy feathers lining her skin, and then felt her hand retracting and changing into something else. Her fingertips prickled electrically for a moment and then stung like only one thing she had ever felt before: a blade. The sting then began to circulate and travel up her forearm.

It didn't stop. Airies could feel it; she knew her arm was transforming into something unnatural. She dared to look down and what she saw, coupled with the pain that was intensifying by the second, made her shriek. They were sprouting out of her arm like poised spears. She could feel them lacerating up out of her skin and through the wad of feathers now lining her skin up to her temples. They slid out in all directions.

Airies' fingers were gone, replaced by the grim, chilling aberrations that her entire arm was swiftly becoming one of. She screamed out desperately, willing the process to cease.

Lavender's body and mind were frozen in unison. She couldn't think and everything—sight, sound and feeling—were fast becoming just a confusing blend of senses that she couldn't focus on. She barely even realized that Airies had released her.

There were only two things that would remain firmly indented in her mind: the sudden, clammy and sickening feel of someone else's hot blood spattering across her face, and then the sharp, malicious sound of a man's laughter.

* * *

Review now, poyos! OR I WILL CRY. ;-; ... Please? 

Hehe, thanks much if you do. Also, thank you so much to Wolferz again, for whom I have been writing this story since the beginning! You give me so much inspiration, Wolfie! You have my infinite gratitude. Everyone give a hand for Wolferz, for she gave me an entirely new view on my fic and I imagine it will take a few more interesting turns because of her. I'mma start a Wolferz fanclub! XD

Again, please review my pretties! ;D


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